Sialkot mein October ki woh shaam baarish ke baad utri thi, jaise kisi ne geele sheher par halka sa dhund ka dupatta daal diya ho. Do ghante pehle tak aasman garaj raha tha, galiyon mein paani beh raha tha, aur Purana Qila Road par rikshon ke tyre paani uchalte hue guzar rahe thay. Ab hawa mein woh khushbu thi jo sirf baarish ke baad mitti se uthti hai — geeli mitti, bheegi belain, aur door kahin se aati hui tandoor ki rotiyon ki mehak. Aasman neele se gehrey siyah ki taraf badh raha tha, aur us par pehle sitare jhalakne lage thay. Purani haveli ke sehan mein, jahan peepal ka darakht sau saal se khara tha, bachon ne kursiyan ghuma kar projector screen ki taraf kar di thin.
Yeh screening kisi cinema ki nahi thi. Yeh valima ki video thi — pichle hafte hue valime ki, jisme poora khandan ikattha hua tha. Najma ne subah se taiyari kar rakhi thi. Najma, 45 saal ki, jo is haveli ki rooh thi ab — un ke shauhar Aslam ke inteqal ke baad se chaar saal ho chuke thay, aur ghar ka har faisla, har mehmaan, har khushi ab un ke haathon se guzarti thi. Un ka chehra thaka hua lagta tha magar aankhon mein wohi purani roshni thi, woh roshni jo Sialkot ki auratein apne bachon ke liye jalaye rakhti hain chahe duniya kitni hi andheri kyun na ho jaye.
Screen ke saamne do qatarein bach gayi thin. Pehli qataar mein chacha-zad bache, dusri mein baray. Side mein dastarkhwan laga tha — dahi bhallay, fruit chaat, samose, aur Najma ke haath ki woh famous imli ki chutney jis ka zikr khandan mein das saal se ho raha tha. Mohsin, 24 saal ka, projector ke paas khara cable theek kar raha tha. Woh Lahore mein ek software company mein kaam karta tha aur sirf hafte-akhir ya kisi taqreeb par ghar aata tha. Us ki aankhein screen par nahi, balkay lawn ke us kone par thin jahan us ki behan Kiran, 22 saal ki, apne phone se reels bana rahi thi — ya banane ka bahana kar rahi thi, kyunki us ka dhyaan bhi screen par nahi tha.
Kiran MA English ki student thi, Government College Sialkot mein. Us ke baal lambe thay, jo us ne aaj khol rakhe thay, aur us ka dupatta kandhe se dhalak kar peeth par gaya tha. Woh hansti hui apni cousin Hira se baat kar rahi thi, magar jab bhi Mohsin ki taraf dekhti, us ki hansi mein ek lamhe ke liye thahar aata — jaise koi dhun achanak band ho jaye.
“Chalo bhai, shuru karo!” kisi ne peeche se aawaz lagayi.
Mohsin ne laptop ka button dabaya. Projector ki roshni sehan mein phail gayi, aur screen par pehla frame aaya — valime ka stage, phoolon se saja hua, golden lights. Sehan mein taaliyan bajin. Aur phir video chali — wohi raat, wohi chehre, wohi hansi, jo ab ek hafte purani yaad ban chuki thi. Koi mehmanon ko dekh kar hasta, koi apne kapron par tabsara karta, koi stage par jaane walon ko pehchanta.
Video ke dusre minute mein ek frame aaya jo aam nazar mein kuch khaas nahi tha — dulhan ke peeche khari Najma, mehmanon ko khana khilane ki hidayat deti hui. Magar Mohsin ne, jo screen ke bilkul saamne khara tha, kuch dekha jo us ke zehen mein atak gaya: Najma ke haath mein ek phone tha, aur us ke dupatte ki teh mein, kamar ke paas, ek dusra phone bhi jhalak raha tha — chhota, kaale cover wala, jis ka pichla hissa roshni mein chamka tha. Us ne aankhein jhapkin. Video aage badh gayi. Magar woh jhalak us ke dil mein kahin baith gayi, jaise geeli mitti mein kisi ka naqsh.
Najma us waqt screen ki taraf nahi dekh rahi thin. Woh kitchen ki taraf ja rahi thin, aur un ke chehre par wohi muskurahat thi jo maaon ke chehre par hoti hai jab un ke bache khush hon. Magar Mohsin ne dekha — jab video mein un ka woh frame aaya, un ke qadam ek lamhe ke liye ruke thay. Sirf ek lamha. Phir woh aage badh gayin.
Hawa mein peepal ke patte sarsarahatay, projector ki halki si gunj gunjati, aur Sialkot ki us baarish-dhoi shaam mein koi nahi janta tha ke is valime ki video mein sirf khushiyan nahi qaid hui thin — kuch raaz bhi qaid ho gaye thay, jo agle kuch dinon mein is ghar ki har deewar se takrayenge.Video mein ab khana khane ka scene aa raha tha. Stage ke peeche dastarkhwan laga tha, aur camera ne ek ek chehre ko qaid kiya tha — koi boti chaba raha tha, koi naan tor raha tha, koi camera dekh kar sharma kar munh pher raha tha. Sehan mein baithe log apne aap ko screen par dekh kar khilkhila rahe thay. “Dekho, chacha ne doosri plate li!” “Arey, phuppo ka dupatta gravy mein gaya!” Har frame par hansi, har hansi mein pyaar.
Najma wapas aayin, haath mein tray liye. Un ke peeche un ki nand Razia bhi thi, jo Karachi se aayi thi. “Najma baji, yeh chutney to kamal hai,” Razia ne kaha, samosa chutney mein dubote hue. “Recipe de dein, warna mein roz phone kar ke pareshan karungi.”
Najma hansin. “Recipe mein koi raaz nahi, Razia. Bas imli ko raat bhar bhigo do, aur us mein woh daalo jo dil mein ho.”
“Phir to meri chutney kabhi nahi banegi,” Razia ne kaha, “mera dil to hamesha Karachi ki traffic mein phansa rehta hai.”
Sehan goonj utha. Mohsin ne dekha ke Kiran bhi hans rahi thi, magar us ki nazrein baar baar us ki taraf aa rahi thin, aur jab nazrein miltin to woh foran neeche kar leti. Yeh khel naya nahi tha. Yeh khel pichle do saal se chal raha tha — jab se Mohsin ne Lahore se ek lambi chhutti par aakar Kiran ko pehli baar us nazar se dekha tha jo bhai ki nazar nahi hoti.
Woh raat yaad aati hai use. Kiran chhat par khari thi, baarish ho rahi thi, aur woh apne haath phailaye baarish mein bheeg rahi thi. Mohsin chhat par kapre utarne gaya tha. Us ne use dekha — bheegi qameez, khule baal, chehre par bachon jaisi khushi — aur us ke dil mein kuch toot sa gaya tha. Woh us din se janta tha ke us ke dil mein jo hai, woh kehna aasaan nahi. Kehna to door, sochna bhi gunah lagta tha. Magar dil kabhi fatwe sunta hai?
Screening ke dauraan Kiran uth kar paani lene gayi. Wapsi par us ka rasta Mohsin ke paas se guzra, jo projector ke paas betha tha. Us ke dupatte ka kona Mohsin ke kandhe se chhu gaya. Dono ne ek dusre ko dekha. Kiran ne jaldi se dupatta sambhala aur apni jagah ja baithi, magar us ke kaan laal ho gaye thay. Mohsin ne apna haath us jagah par rakha jahan dupatta chhua tha, jaise woh ehsaas ko pakadna chahta ho.
“Video mein tum kitni achhi lag rahi ho,” Mohsin ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha jab Kiran paas se guzri.
Kiran ruki nahi. “Camera jhoot bolta hai,” us ne kaha, magar us ki aawaz mein woh sakhti nahi thi jo honi chahiye thi.
Video ab apne aakhri hisse mein thi — rukhsati ka scene. Dulhan ro rahi thi, us ki maa use gale laga rahi thi. Sehan mein khamoshi chha gayi, woh khamoshi jo har desi taqreeb mein rukhsati par chha jaati hai. Najma ki aankhein bhar aayin. Unhon ne apna dupatta aankhon se lagaya. Mohsin ne dekha ke unhon ne apne haath se apne dupatte ki teh ko chhua — wahin, jahan video mein dusra phone jhalka tha — jaise tasalli kar rahi hon ke woh wahin hai, mehfooz hai.
Screen par “THE END” aaya, phir credits. Taaliyan bajin. Koi uth kar chai lene gaya, koi washroom. Projector band ho gaya, aur sehan mein sirf lawn ki battiyan jal rahi thin, peeli roshni mein peepal ke patte sunehri lag rahe thay.
Mohsin lawn ke us kone mein gaya jahan andhera tha. Us ne apni jeb se phone nikala aur Kiran ko message kiya: “Chhat par aao. Baat karni hai.”
Jawab aaya, ek minute baad: “Nahi.”
“Please. Sirf paanch minute.”
Is baar jawab der se aaya: “Ammi ne dekha to?”
“Ammi kitchen mein hain. Koi nahi dekhega.”
Teen minute ki khamoshi. Phir: “Das minute. Sirf das.”Chhat par hawa tez thi. Baarish ke baad aasman saaf ho chuka tha, aur chand nikal aaya tha — poora nahi, aadha, magar roshni kaafi thi ke chhat ki har cheez dikhai de rahi thi: paani ki tanki, kapre sukhane ki taar, aur woh purani charpai jis par Aslam garmiyon mein soya karte thay. Mohsin charpai par betha tha, haathon mein apna phone ghumata hua.
Seedhiyon par halki aahat hui. Kiran aayi, dupatta sar par liye. Woh charpai se do qadam door khari ho gayi, jaise faasla hi us ki hifazat ho.
“Kya baat hai?” us ne kaha, aawaz dheemi.
Mohsin ne use dekha. Chandni mein us ka chehra aur bhi narm lag raha tha. “Tum janti ho kya baat hai.”
“Mohsin, hum yeh baat sau baar kar chuke hain.”
“Aur sau baar tum bhaag gayi ho.”
Kiran ne apni baahen lapet lin, jaise thand lag rahi ho. “Bhaagna hi behtar hai. Jo tum chahte ho, woh… woh ho nahi sakta.”
“Kyun nahi ho sakta?” Mohsin uth khara hua, magar us ki taraf nahi badha. Woh janta tha ke qareeb jaana use aur door kar dega. “Kiran, mein tum se mohabbat karta hun. Yeh koi khel nahi, koi lamhe ka jazba nahi. Do saal se mein is se larr raha hun. Lahore mein, akela kamre mein, mein ne khud ko hazaar baar samjhaya hai ke yeh galat hai. Magar dil… dil meri nahi sunta.”
“Mohabbat?” Kiran ki aawaz kaanp gayi. “Mohsin, hum behan-bhai hain! Tumhe samajh aa raha hai tum kya keh rahe ho? Agar ammi ko pata chala to woh jeete ji mar jayengi. Abbu ki rooh ko kya munh dikhayenge? Aur log? Sialkot chhota sheher hai, yahan deewaron ke bhi kaan hote hain. Tum Lahore chale jaoge, mein yahan reh jaungi — meri zindagi kya hogi?”
Us ki aankhon mein aansu thay, magar gussa bhi tha. “Tum sirf apne dil ki sunte ho. Mere dil ka kya? Meri izzat ka kya? Mein ne apni poori zindagi is ghar ki izzat bachane mein guzari hai. Abbu ke jaane ke baad mein ne ammi ka saath diya, parhai ki, koi ghalat qadam nahi uthaya. Aur tum chahte ho ke mein sab kuch daav par laga dun — ek aise jazbe ke liye jo… jo khud tum bhi gunah kehte ho?”
Mohsin ne gehri saans li. “Mein ne kabhi nahi kaha ke yeh aasaan hai. Mein ne kabhi nahi kaha ke duniya samjhegi. Mein sirf yeh keh raha hun ke jo mere dil mein hai, woh sach hai. Aur mein janta hun —” us ne ruka, “— mein janta hun ke tumhare dil mein bhi kuch hai. Warna tum chhat par nahi aatin. Warna tumhara dupatta mere kandhe se takra kar tumhare kaan laal nahi hote.”
Kiran ne munh pher liya. “Tum galat samajhte ho.”
“To phir meri aankhon mein dekh kar kaho ke tumhe kuch mehsoos nahi hota.”
Khamoshi. Sirf hawa ki sarsarahat, door kahin se aati hui train ki seeti. Kiran ne us ki taraf nahi dekha. Us ke haath kaanp rahe thay.
“Mein nahi keh sakti,” us ne aakhir mein kaha, aawaz toot gayi. “Kyunki… kyunki agar mein ne keh diya, to phir wapas ka rasta nahi hoga. Aur mujhe wapas jaana hai, Mohsin. Mujhe is ghar mein rehna hai, ammi ke saath, izzat ke saath. Tumhe samajhna hoga.”
Woh seedhiyon ki taraf mudi. Mohsin ne us ka naam pukara, magar us ne rukna munasib nahi samjha. Us ke jaane ke baad Mohsin wapas charpai par beth gaya, aur aasman ki taraf dekhta raha. Chand aadha tha, magar us ki roshni poori chhat par thi — jaise keh rahi ho ke aadhi cheezein bhi poori roshni de sakti hain.
Neeche sehan mein ab bhi mehmaanon ki aawazein aa rahi thin. Koi qehqahe laga raha tha, koi chai maang raha tha. Mohsin ne socha — kitni ajeeb hai zindagi. Neeche khushiyan manayi ja rahi hain, aur yahan chhat par us ka dil toot raha hai. Magar us ne haar nahi maani thi. Woh janta tha ke Kiran ki “nahi” mein woh inkar nahi tha jo dil se nikalta hai. Woh inkar tha jo darr se nikalta hai. Aur darr ka ilaj waqt hota hai, sabr hota hai, aur woh mohabbat hoti hai jo maangti nahi, deti hai.
Us raat Mohsin der tak chhat par betha raha. Jab woh neeche aaya, to dekha ke Najma lawn mein akeli khari thin, aasman ki taraf dekh rahi thin. Un ke haath mein phone tha — magar yeh woh phone nahi tha jo woh din mein istemal karti thin. Yeh chhota tha, kaale cover wala. Woh kisi se baat nahi kar rahi thin. Bas use haath mein pakre, screen ko dekhti hui khari thin, jaise woh phone koi khidki ho kisi aur duniya ki. Phir unhon ne use wapas apne dupatte ki teh mein chhupaya aur andar chali gayin.
Mohsin wahin khara raha. Us ke zehen mein sawal uthne lage — ammi ke paas dusra phone kyun hai? Woh use kis se chhupa rahi hain? Aur kyun?Agli subah Sialkot par halki dhund chhayi thi. October ki subhein yahan aisi hi hotin — hawa mein thandak, ghas par os, aur door sports factories se aati hui machinon ki halki goonj. Haveli ke sehan mein murgi ne baang di, aur kitchen se chai ki khushbu uthne lagi.
Kiran jaldi uth gayi thi. Us ne raat ko neend nahi aayi thi — Mohsin ki baatein us ke zehen mein ghoomti rahi thin. Woh aaina ke saamne khari apne baal bana rahi thi jab us ki nazar apne chehre par pari. Aankhon ke neeche halke halke halqay thay. Us ne thanda paani munh par mara, magar dil ki garmi paani se nahi bujhti.
Woh janti thi ke Mohsin sach keh raha tha. Woh janti thi ke us ke dil mein bhi kuch hai — kuch aisa jo us ne kabhi kisi se nahi kaha, khud se bhi nahi. Jab woh chhoti thi, to Mohsin us ka hero tha — jo use cycle par bithakar bazaar le jaata, jo us ke liye imli khareedta, jo raat ko dar lagne par us ke kamre ke darwaze par beth kar use kahani sunata jab tak woh so na jaye. Phir waqt guzra, dono baray hue, aur pata nahi kab woh bachpan ka pyaar kuch aur ban gaya. Pehli baar us ne yeh mehsoos kiya tha jab woh solah saal ki thi aur Mohsin university gaya tha — us ke jaane par jo khaali-pan mehsoos hua tha, woh behan wala nahi tha.
Magar mehsoos karna ek baat hai, aur use qubool karna dusri. Kiran ke zehen mein hamesha ammi ka chehra aata tha. Najma ne apne shauhar ke jaane ke baad jo qurbaniyan di thin, woh Kiran ne apni aankhon se dekhi thin — kaise woh raaton ko jaag kar bachon ki fees ka hisab karti thin, kaise unhon ne apne zewar bech diye thay taake Mohsin ki university ki fees bhar sakein, kaise woh khud purane kapre pehenti thin magar bachon ke liye naye silwati thin. Aisi maa ko Kiran kya munh dikhati agar use pata chalta ke us ki beti aur beta…? Nahi. Yeh sochna bhi us ke liye zeher tha.
Aur phir abbu. Aslam ki yaad ab bhi is ghar mein zinda thi — un ki tasveer deewar par, un ki awaz Kiran ke zehen mein. Woh kehte thay, “Meri beti meri izzat hai.” Kya woh izzat aisi hoti hai? Kiran ne aaina mein apne aap se poocha. Jawab us ke paas nahi tha. Sirf darr tha, aur sharam thi, aur ek ajeeb si khwahish thi jo use khud se nafrat karne par majboor karti thi.
Neeche kitchen mein Najma nashta bana rahi thin — parathe, omelette, aur adrak wali chai. Mohsin bhi aa gaya, baal bikhre hue, aankhein neend se bhari. Us ne Kiran ko dekha, magar Kiran ne nazrein chura lin.
“Ammi, aaj mein Hira ke ghar ja rahi hun,” Kiran ne kaha, paratha tor te hue. “Us ki ammi ne bulaya hai, kuch kapre dekhne hain.”
“Theek hai, magar jaldi aa jana,” Najma ne kaha. “Shaam ko Razia ke ghar dawat hai, sab ko jaana hai.”
Nashta khamoshi se hua. Mohsin ne do baar Kiran se baat karne ki koshish ki — ek baar chai ka cup mangte hue, ek baar namak — magar Kiran ne sirf zaroori jawab diye. Najma ne dono ko dekha, magar kuch nahi kaha. Maaon ki aankhein sab dekh leti hain, magar zubaan hamesha nahi kholti.
Nashtay ke baad Najma apne kamre mein gayin. Mohsin ne dekha ke darwaza band karne se pehle unhon ne apne dupatte ki teh mein haath dala — wohi jagah — aur kuch nikala. Kaala phone. Darwaza band ho gaya. Mohsin sehan mein khara raha, dil zor zor se dharak raha tha. Woh darwaze ke paas gaya, kaan lagaye. Andar se koi aawaz nahi aa rahi thi — na baat karne ki, na kuch aur. Sirf khamoshi. Phir, kuch der baad, ek halki si aawaz aayi — jaise koi ro raha ho, magar aansu rokne ki koshish kar raha ho.
Mohsin ka dil kaanp gaya. Ammi ro rahi thin? Kyun? Aur woh phone… us ka is se kya talluq tha?
Us din dopahar ko Kiran Hira ke ghar gayi, aur Mohsin apne dost Bilal se milne bazaar gaya. Magar us ka dhyaan kahin nahi tha. Bilal ne use chai pilayi, purani baatein yaad dilayin, magar Mohsin bas “haan” “naa” karta raha.
“Yaar, tu theek hai?” Bilal ne poocha. “Lahore se aaya hai, chehra utra hua hai. Koi larki ka chakkar hai?”
Mohsin ne halki si hansi hansi. “Chakkar to hai, yaar. Magar aisa ke bata nahi sakta.”
“Mat bata. Bas itna bata — woh khush hai?”
Mohsin ne door bazaar ki bheer ko dekha — rikshay, thelay walay, school se wapas aate bache. “Pata nahi, yaar. Shayad mein use khush karne ke bajaye dukh de raha hun.”
“To chhor de.”
“Chhor nahi sakta.” Mohsin ne apni chai ka cup neeche rakha. “Kuch cheezein chhorne ke liye nahi hotin. Woh dil mein ghar bana leti hain, aur phir chahe tum ghar tor do, un ki yaad har eent mein rehti hai.”
Bilal ne use gaur se dekha. “Tu to aashiq ho gaya hai, yaar. Poora filmy.”
“Filmon mein to aashiq ko larki mil jaati hai,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Meri kahani mein interval ke baad pata nahi kya hoga.”Shaam ko Razia ke ghar dawat thi. Poora khandan ikattha tha — bache shor kar rahe thay, baray siyasat par behas kar rahe thay, aur auratein ek kone mein dulhan ke jode par tabsara kar rahi thin. Kiran Hira ke saath thi, hansti-muskurati, magar Mohsin janta tha ke woh hansi asli nahi thi. Woh use chaar saal se dekh raha tha — jab se Aslam ka inteqal hua tha.
Aslam ke jaane ki raat Kiran kabhi nahi bhool sakti. Woh sardiyon ki raat thi, January ki. Aslam ko dil ka daura para tha, aur hospital le jaate jaate unhon ne dam tor diya tha. Kiran us waqt atharah saal ki thi. Us ne dekha tha ke kaise us ki maa, jo hamesha mazboot thi, ek dum se toot gayi thi — jaise kisi ne un ki reedh ki haddi nikal li ho. Janaze ke baad jab sab chale gaye, to Najma ne apne kamre ka darwaza band kar liya tha, aur teen din tak bahar nahi nikli thin. Kiran ne darwaze ke bahar beth kar un se baatein ki thin, khana rakha tha, aur teesre din jab darwaza khula, to us ne dekha ke us ki ammi ab woh aurat nahi rahi thin jo pehle thin. Kuch un ke andar mar chuka tha.
Mohsin us waqt Lahore mein tha, university ke aakhri saal mein. Woh foran aaya tha, magar janaze tak nahi pahunch saka tha. Us ka dukh dugna tha — baap ka gham, aur us gham mein shareek na ho sakne ka gham. Us ke baad se woh har hafte ghar phone karta, har mahine aata, aur har baar ammi ke chehre par woh khaali-pan dekhta jo bharne ka naam nahi leta tha.
Dawat mein Najma sab se mil rahi thin, hans rahi thin, magar Mohsin ne dekha ke har aadhe ghante baad woh bahana bana kar bahar lawn mein jaati thin — “hawa khane” — aur wapas aatin to un ki aankhein thodi surkh hoti thin. Ek baar Mohsin ne door se dekha: woh lawn ke andhere kone mein khari thin, haath mein wohi kaala phone, aur us ki screen ki halki roshni un ke chehre par par rahi thi. Woh kuch dekh rahi thin — ya sun rahi thin. Phir unhon ne phone ko apne maathe se lagaya, ek lamhe ke liye, jaise koi dua maang rahi hon. Aur wapas andar aa gayin.
Mohsin ka zehen ulajh gaya tha. Yeh phone kya tha? Koi aisa shakhs jise ammi chhupa rahi thin? Koi purana dost? Koi…? Nahi. Woh apni ammi ko janta tha. Najma aisi aurat nahi thin. Magar phir yeh raaz kya tha?
Raat ko ghar wapas aakar Mohsin ne ek faisla kiya. Us ne apne kamre mein beth kar kagaz nikala — haan, kagaz, kalam se — aur Kiran ke naam ek khat likhna shuru kiya. Lahore mein rehte hue us ne seekha tha ke kuch baatein zubaan se nahi, kagaz par behtar kehi jaati hain.
Us ne likha: “Kiran, mein janta hun tum mujh se naraz ho. Shayad tum sahi ho. Shayad jo mein mehsoos karta hun, woh duniya ki nazar mein galat hai. Magar mein tum se ek sawal poochna chahta hun — kya tum ne kabhi apne dil se poocha hai ke woh kya chahta hai? Sirf duniya ke darr se, sirf logon ki baaton se, sirf is liye ke ‘aisa nahi hota’ — kya tum apni khushi qurban kar dogi? Mein tum se kuch nahi maangta, Kiran. Na koi wada, na koi jawab. Mein sirf yeh chahta hun ke tum apne aap se jhoot na bolo. Kyunki jhoot bolne walon ki aankhein bata deti hain. Aur tumhari aankhein, Kiran, woh sab kehti hain jo tumhari zubaan nahi kehti. Tumhara Mohsin.”
Us ne khat ko teh kiya, lifafe mein dala, aur us par sirf ek lafz likha: “Kiran.”
Agli subah us ne yeh lifafa Kiran ke kamre ke darwaze ke neeche se sarka diya, jab woh college gayi hui thi. Phir poora din us ka dil dharakta raha — kya woh parhegi? Kya woh phaar degi? Kya woh ammi ko dikha degi?
Shaam ko jab Kiran college se wapas aayi, to us ka chehra bata raha tha ke us ne khat parha tha. Woh seedha apne kamre mein gayi, darwaza band kiya. Mohsin sehan mein betha raha, intezar karta raha. Ek ghanta guzra. Do ghante. Phir darwaza khula, aur Kiran bahar aayi. Us ne Mohsin ko dekha. Us ki aankhein surkh thin.
Woh us ke paas aayi, aur dheemi aawaz mein kaha, sirf itna: “Yeh khat jala do, Mohsin. Aur is baat ko bhi. Please.”
Phir woh chali gayi. Magar Mohsin ne dekha tha — us ke haath mein woh lifafa nahi tha. Us ne use phara nahi tha. Us ne use sambhal kar rakha tha.Agle do din ajeeb se guzre. Ghar mein sab normal tha — nashta, kaam, mehmaan, TV — magar Kiran aur Mohsin ke darmiyan hawa mein kuch tha jo sirf wohi mehsoos kar sakte thay. Kiran ne Mohsin se baat karna taqreeban band kar diya tha, magar us ki khamoshi mein ab woh sakhti nahi thi jo pehle thi. Kabhi kabhi Mohsin use dekhta ke woh apne kamre mein bethi khirki se bahar dekh rahi hoti, aur us ke chehre par woh uljhan hoti jo sirf wohi samajh sakta tha jis ne mohabbat mein khud ko khoya ho.
Mohsin ne apni hikmat badal di. Us ne Kiran ka peecha karna, use manana, use dabao dalna — sab chhor diya. Us ne sirf dena shuru kiya, bina maange. Subah jab Kiran college ke liye nikalti, to us ki chappal darwaze par seedhi rakhi hoti — Mohsin ne rakhi hoti. Jab woh thaki hui wapas aati, to us ke kamre mein thanda sharbat rakha hota. Ek din us ki pasandeeda kitaab — Jane Austen ka “Pride and Prejudice” — us ke takiye par rakhi mili, aur us mein ek panna mora hua tha, jahan Elizabeth kehti hai ke us ne Darcy ko ghalat samjha tha.
Kiran ne kitaab uthayi, more hue panne ko dekha, aur der tak use haath mein pakre rahi. Us raat us ne phir se Mohsin ka khat nikala — woh use apni almari mein, kapron ke neeche chhupa kar rakha tha — aur teesri baar parha. Har baar parhne par us ke aansu nikal aate. “Tum apne aap se jhoot na bolo.” Yeh jumla us ke zehen mein goonjta raha.
Teesre din ki shaam ko Mohsin ne apna laptop khola. Us ke zehen mein woh frame atka hua tha — valime ki video mein ammi ke dupatte mein jhalakta dusra phone. Us ne video ki file kholi, us hisse tak gaya, aur pause kiya. Phir zoom kiya. Aur zoom. Tasveer dhundli ho gayi, magar itna saaf tha ke Najma ke dupatte ki teh mein waqai ek phone tha — chhota, kaale cover wala, aur us ki screen par kuch chamak raha tha. Mohsin ne brightness barhayi, contrast theek kiya. Screen par ek tasveer jhalak rahi thi — kisi aadmi ki tasveer. Dil ki dharkan tez ho gayi. Kaun tha yeh aadmi?
Us ne aur zoom kiya, magar tasveer itni dhundli thi ke chehra pehchana nahi jaa sakta tha. Sirf itna dikhai diya ke tasveer purani thi — rang thode pheeke, style purana. Mohsin ne laptop band kar diya aur gehri saans li. Us ke zehen mein bure khayal aane lage thay, aur woh un se nafrat karta tha. Ammi…? Nahi. Namumkin.
Magar phir woh lawn wali raat yaad aayi — ammi ka phone maathe se lagana. Woh ada kisi ajnabi ke liye nahi hoti. Woh ada apne kisi apne ke liye hoti hai.
Us raat khane par Najma ne elaan kiya: “Parson mere ek purane dost ke bete ki shaadi hai, Gujranwala mein. Hum sab jayenge.”
“Hum sab?” Kiran ne poocha.
“Haan, sab. Tumhare abbu ke dost ka beta hai. Unhon ne khaas kaha hai ke poora khandan aaye.”
Mohsin ne dekha ke yeh kehte hue Najma ki aawaz mein ek ajeeb si thakan thi. Jaise yeh shaadi un ke liye sirf ek taqreeb nahi, koi imtihan ho.
Khane ke baad Mohsin chhat par gaya. Thodi der baad use seedhiyon par aahat sunayi di. Us ka dil uchhal para — Kiran? Magar yeh Najma thin, haath mein chai ke do cup liye.
“Mohsin,” unhon ne kaha, us ke paas bethte hue. “Tum se baat karni thi.”
Mohsin ne cup pakda. “Ji, ammi.”
Najma der tak chand ko dekhti rahi. Phir unhon ne kaha, “Tum Lahore mein khush ho?”
Mohsin hairan hua. “Ji… kyun?”
“Bas aise hi. Maa hun, poochti rehti hun.” Un ki aawaz mein kuch tha — koi chhupa hua dard. “Tumhare abbu kehte thay ke beta jab ghar se door jaye, to maa ka dil aadha us ke saath chala jaata hai. Mera dil to poora hi tum dono ke saath rehta hai.”
Mohsin ne un ka haath pakda. “Ammi, aap theek hain? Aap kuch pareshan lag rahi hain.”
Najma ne us ka haath thapthapaya, magar jawab nahi diya. Un ki nazrein door kahin thin — shayad us jagah jahan yaadein rehti hain. “Mohsin,” unhon ne aakhir mein kaha, “zindagi mein kuch faisle aise hote hain jo dil se kiye jaate hain, duniya se nahi. Aur jo faisle dil se kiye jayein, un ka bojh bhi dil hi uthata hai. Tum jab koi faisla karo, to apne dil ki sunna. Magar yaad rakhna — dil ki sunne ka matlab yeh nahi ke dusron ke dil tor do.”
Woh uthin, khaali cup uthaye, aur seedhiyon ki taraf gayin. Mohsin wahin betha raha, un ki baat ko samajhne ki koshish karta hua. Kya ammi kuch janti thin? Kya unhon ne kuch dekha tha? Ya yeh sirf ek maa ki aam naseehat thi?
Us raat der tak Mohsin sochta raha. Aur neeche, apne kamre mein, Kiran bhi jaag rahi thi — Mohsin ka khat haath mein liye, us jumle ko baar baar parhti hui: “Tum apne aap se jhoot na bolo.”Gujranwala ki shaadi mein poora khandan gaya. Hall bara tha, roshniyan tez thin, aur khana itna tha ke dastarkhwan par jagah kam par gayi thi. Najma apne purane doston se mil rahi thin — un mein se ek thi Shamim, jo Aslam ke bachpan ki dost thi. Dono ek kone mein beth kar purani baatein kar rahi thin, aur Mohsin ne dekha ke Najma ki aankhein bhar aayi thin jab Shamim ne Aslam ka zikr kiya.
“Aslam bhai jaisa aadmi ab kahan,” Shamim keh rahi thi. “Najma, tumhe to fakhr hona chahiye. Unhon ne tumhe kabhi kisi cheez ki kami mehsoos nahi hone di.”
Najma ne apna dupatta aankhon se lagaya. “Kami to ab mehsoos hoti hai, Shamim. Jab woh thay, to pata nahi tha ke woh kitne zaroori thay. Ab har roz pata chalta hai.”
Mohsin ne Kiran ko dekha, jo thodi door khari dulhan ko dekh rahi thi. Dulhan laal jore mein khubsurat lag rahi thi, magar us ki aankhein nam thin — rukhsati ka waqt qareeb tha. Kiran ke chehre par ek ajeeb si udaasi thi. Mohsin us ke paas gaya.
“Kya soch rahi ho?” us ne dheemi aawaz mein poocha.
Kiran ne use dekha, phir wapas dulhan ki taraf. “Soch rahi hun ke dulhan ro kyun rahi hai. Use to khush hona chahiye — nayi zindagi shuru ho rahi hai.”
“Shayad khushi aur gham ek saath aate hain,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Purani zindagi chhorne ka gham, nayi ka khauf.”
“Aur agar purani zindagi hi sab kuch ho?” Kiran ne kaha, aawaz itni dheemi ke sirf Mohsin sun saka. “Agar nayi zindagi ka matlab sab kuch khona ho — ammi, ghar, izzat — to phir?”
Mohsin ne us ka haath pakdna chaha, magar Kiran ne haath peeche kar liya. Magar is baar us ne gusse se nahi, dard se kiya tha. Aur Mohsin ne dekha ke us ki aankhon mein aansu thay.
“Kiran,” us ne kaha, “mein tum se wada karta hun — mein tumhe kabhi kuch khone nahi dunga. Jo bhi hoga, hum dono mil kar sahenge. Tum akeli nahi ho. Kabhi nahi thi.”
Kiran ne kuch nahi kaha. Woh wapas Hira ke paas chali gayi. Magar Mohsin ne dekha ke jaate hue us ne ek baar peeche mur kar dekha tha — aur us nazar mein woh inkar nahi tha jo pehle tha. Us mein sawal tha. Aur sawal ka matlab hota hai ke jawab ki talaash shuru ho gayi hai.
Rukhsati ke waqt hall mein rona-dhona mach gaya. Dulhan ki maa use gale laga kar ro rahi thi. Najma bhi ro rahi thin — shayad apni beti ki rukhsati yaad karke, jo abhi hui nahi thi magar ek din hogi. Is shor mein Najma bahar corridor mein nikal gayin. Mohsin ne unhe jaate dekha, aur pata nahi kyun, us ke qadam un ke peeche uth gaye.
Corridor khaali tha, sirf door se hall ki aawazein aa rahi thin. Najma ek khirki ke paas khari thin, haath mein wohi kaala phone. Aur phir Mohsin ne suna — phone se ek aawaz aa rahi thi. Ek mard ki aawaz. Dheemi, gehri, purani recording jaisi.
Mohsin ka khoon sard ho gaya. Us ne aur qareeb jaakar sunne ki koshish ki. Aawaz keh rahi thi: “…aur Najma, tum fikar na karo. Bachon ka khayal rakhna. Mein jald wapas aaunga…”
Mohsin ki saansein ruk gayin. Yeh aawaz… yeh aawaz use pehchani si lagi. Yeh…
“Ammi?” us ki aawaz nikal gayi, be-ikhtiyar.
Najma chaunk kar murin. Un ke haath se phone girte girte bacha. Un ka chehra peela par gaya tha, jaise chor pakra gaya ho. “M-Mohsin? Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?”
“Woh… woh aawaz kis ki thi?” Mohsin ne poocha, us ki aawaz kaanp rahi thi. “Ammi, yeh phone kis ka hai? Aap is se kya chhupa rahi hain?”
Najma ne phone ko apne dupatte mein chhupaya, haath kaanp rahe thay. “Kuch nahi, beta. Tum ghalat samajh rahe ho. Andar chalo, rukhsati ho rahi hai.”
“Ammi, please,” Mohsin ne un ka haath pakda, narmi se. “Mein aap ka beta hun. Agar koi baat hai, to mujhe batayein. Mein aap ke saath hun.”
Najma ne use dekha — der tak dekha. Un ki aankhon mein aansu thay, aur un aansuon mein chaar saal ka dard tha. “Ghar chal kar baat karenge,” unhon ne kaha. “Yahan nahi. Please.”
Woh andar chali gayin. Mohsin wahin khara raha, corridor mein, hall ki roshniyon se door. Us ke zehen mein woh aawaz goonj rahi thi. Woh aawaz use pehchani kyun lagi thi? Kya woh…? Nahi. Namumkin. Magar dil kehta tha ke mumkin hai. Dil hamesha woh kehta hai jo dimagh maan ne se inkar karta hai.
Wapsi ke safar mein gaari mein khamoshi thi. Najma khirki se bahar dekh rahi thin. Kiran so gayi thi, sar Hira ke kandhe par. Mohsin drive kar raha tha, magar us ka dhyaan road par nahi tha. Woh soch raha tha — ghar jaakar ammi se baat karega. Aur is baar woh “ghar chal kar” wala jawab nahi sunega. Is baar woh sach jaan kar rahega.Ghar pahunch kar sab apne apne kamron mein chale gaye. Magar Mohsin Najma ke kamre ke darwaze par khara raha. Us ne dastak di.
“Ammi?”
“Andar aao.”
Najma bistar par bethi thin, abhi tak shaadi wale kapron mein. Un ke saamne wohi kaala phone rakha tha — ab chhupa hua nahi, khula. Jaise woh bhi taiyar thin is baat ke liye.
Mohsin un ke saamne beth gaya. “Ammi, mein ne corridor mein jo suna… woh aawaz…”
Najma ne gehri saans li. Unhon ne phone uthaya, use haath mein ghumaya. “Yeh phone tumhare abbu ka tha,” unhon ne kaha, aawaz dheemi magar saaf. “Un ka purana phone. Jab un ka inteqal hua, to mein ne ise sambhal kar rakh liya. Is mein un ki aawaz hai, Mohsin. Un ke voice notes. Jo woh mujhe bheja karte thay jab woh sheher se bahar hote thay.”
Mohsin ki aankhein phail gayin. “Abbu ki aawaz…?”
“Haan.” Najma ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Pehle pehle mein ise sirf kabhi kabhi sunti thi — jab bahut yaad aate thay. Phir aadat ban gayi. Phir zaroorat. Aur phir…” unhon ne ruka, “phir mein ne is mein apni aawaz record karni shuru kar di. Har raat, sone se pehle. Mein un se baatein karti hun, Mohsin. Apne din ke baare mein, bachon ke baare mein, ghar ke baare mein. Jaise woh sun rahe hon. Jaise woh ab bhi yahin hon.”
Mohsin ka dil bhar aaya. Us ne apni maa ko dekha — yeh aurat, jo din mein itni mazboot lagti thi, raat ko kitni akeli thi. Chaar saal se woh apne shauhar se baatein kar rahi thi, ek phone mein, kisi ko bataye baghair. Kyunki duniya samajhti ke woh pagal ho gayi hai. Kyunki log kehte ke “aage badho, bhool jao.” Magar koi apne dil ka hissa kaise bhool sakta hai?
“Ammi…” Mohsin ki aawaz toot gayi. “Aap ne mujhe kyun nahi bataya? Mein aap ka beta hun.”
“Is liye ke tum pareshan hote,” Najma ne kaha, us ke sar par haath pherte hue. “Aur is liye ke yeh meri kamzori hai, beta. Maa apni kamzori bachon ko nahi dikhati. Woh un ke liye mazboot banti hai, chahe andar se toot rahi ho.”
Mohsin ne un ka haath pakad liya. “Aap kamzor nahi hain, ammi. Aap sab se mazboot hain. Magar mazboot logon ko bhi kabhi kabhi sahara chahiye hota hai.”
Najma hansin, aansuon ke saath. “Tum bilkul apne abbu jaisi baatein karte ho.”
Phir unhon ne phone ki screen on ki, aur ek file kholi. “Yeh suno,” unhon ne kaha. “Yeh tumhare abbu ki aakhri recording hai. Unhon ne yeh us raat record ki thi jab unhe… jab unhe dard shuru hua tha. Hospital jaane se pehle.”
Mohsin ka dil zor se dharakne laga. Najma ne play dabaya.
Aur phir us kamre mein, chaar saal purani ek aawaz goonji — Aslam ki aawaz, kamzor magar saaf: “Najma… agar mujhe kuch ho jaye, to yeh yaad rakhna. Tum ne mujhe duniya ki har khushi di hai. Aur mere bachon se kehna… mere Mohsin aur meri Kiran se kehna ke un ka abbu un se bahut pyaar karta tha. Aur ek baat aur kehna — zindagi bahut chhoti hai, Najma. Is mein jo dil chahe, woh karna chahiye. Dar ke, logon ke, duniya ke peeche apni khushiyan qurban nahi karni chahiye. Mere bachon ko khush rehna chahiye. Bas khush. Yeh mere aakhri alfaaz samajhna…”
Recording khatm ho gayi. Kamre mein khamoshi chha gayi, woh khamoshi jo sirf sach bolne ke baad aati hai.
Najma ro rahi thin, khamoshi se. Mohsin ne unhe gale lagaya, aur dono der tak aise hi bethe rahe — maa aur beta, ek dusre ke dard ko samajhte hue, ek dusre ko sahara dete hue.
“Ammi,” Mohsin ne aakhir mein kaha, “kya mein… kya mein kabhi kabhi yeh sun sakta hun? Abbu ki aawaz?”
Najma ne use dekha, hairan. “Tumhe bura nahi laga? Ke mein ne tum se chhupaya?”
“Mujhe dukh hua,” Mohsin ne imaandari se kaha, “ke aap ne chaar saal tak yeh dard akele saha. Magar bura nahi laga. Kyunki ab mein samajhta hun. Mohabbat jab chali jaati hai, to insaan us ke nishan sambhal kar rakhta hai. Yeh pagalpan nahi hai, ammi. Yeh mohabbat hai.”
Najma ne us ka chehra apne haathon mein liya. “Mera bacha bara ho gaya hai,” unhon ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Tumhare abbu hote, to kitne khush hote.”
Us raat Mohsin ne apne kamre mein jaakar der tak socha. Abbu ke aakhri alfaaz us ke zehen mein goonj rahe thay: “Jo dil chahe, woh karna chahiye. Dar ke, logon ke, duniya ke peeche apni khushiyan qurban nahi karni chahiye. Mere bachon ko khush rehna chahiye.”
Kya yeh ishara tha? Kya abbu, chaar saal pehle, use yeh keh gaye thay ke apne dil ki suno? Mohsin ne aasman ki taraf dekha. Chand ab poora nikal aaya tha. Us ne faisla kiya — woh Kiran ko abbu ke alfaaz sunayega. Nahi, woh use majboor nahi karega. Woh sirf use sach batayega. Aur phir faisla Kiran ka hoga. Poori tarah us ka.
Kyunki mohabbat mein jeetna nahi hota, Mohsin ne socha. Mohabbat mein sirf sach hota hai. Aur sach ka intezar karna parta hai.Agli subah ghar mein hawa badli hui thi. Najma nashtay par aayin to un ke chehre par woh bojh nahi tha jo hamesha hota tha. Unhon ne Mohsin ko dekha, aur dono ke darmiyan ek khamosh samjhota ho gaya — raaz ab raaz nahi raha tha, aur is se dono halke ho gaye thay.
Kiran ne yeh tabdeeli mehsoos ki, magar samajh nahi saki. Nashtay ke baad jab woh college ke liye tayyar ho rahi thi, to Mohsin us ke kamre ke darwaze par aaya.
“Kiran, kya tum aaj shaam ko mere saath kahin chalogi? Sirf ek ghanta.”
Kiran ne use dekha. “Kahan?”
“Purane qabrastan ke paas wala park. Yaad hai, hum bachpan mein wahan jaya karte thay?”
Kiran ne kuch der socha, phir sar hilaya. “Theek hai. Magar ammi se poochna parega.”
“Mein pooch lunga.”
Shaam ko woh dono park gaye. October ki shaam thi, hawa mein thandak, darakhton se peele patte gir rahe thay. Park khaali tha, sirf ek buzurg bench par betha akhbar parh raha tha. Woh dono usi purani bench par bethe jahan bachpan mein betha karte thay — woh bench jahan Mohsin ne use pehli baar cycle chalana sikhayi thi, jahan unhon ne churan khaya tha, jahan barish mein bheeg kar ghar gaye thay aur ammi se daant khai thi.
Mohsin ne gehri saans li. “Kiran, mujhe tumhe kuch batana hai. Ammi ke baare mein.”
Kiran chaunki. “Ammi ke baare mein? Kya hua? Woh theek hain?”
“Woh theek hain. Magar un ke paas ek raaz tha, jo ab raaz nahi raha.” Mohsin ne use sab bataya — dusra phone, abbu ki recordings, Najma ki har raat ki baatein, aur aakhir mein abbu ke aakhri alfaaz. “Jo dil chahe, woh karna chahiye. Dar ke peeche apni khushiyan qurban nahi karni chahiye.”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Abbu ne… yeh kaha tha?”
“Haan. Aur mein yeh tumhe is liye nahi bata raha ke tum par dabao dalun. Mein yeh is liye bata raha hun kyunki tumhe apne abbu ko yaad karne ka haq hai. Aur kyunki…” us ne ruka, “kyunki mein chahta hun ke tum jano — is ghar mein mohabbat ko chhupana nahi sikhaya gaya. Ammi ne chaar saal tak apni mohabbat chhupayi, aur dekho un ka kya haal hua. Kya tum bhi wahi karna chahti ho? Apne dil ko ek phone mein band karke har raat us se baatein karna?”
Kiran ne apne aansu ponchhe. “Tum samajhte kyun nahi, Mohsin? Ammi aur abbu ka rishta duniya ne qubool kiya tha. Hamara rishta…”
“Hamara rishta kya hai, Kiran?” Mohsin ne narmi se poocha. “Tum khud batao. Kya yeh gunah hai ke mein tumhari fikar karta hun? Kya yeh galat hai ke tum meri muskurahat par muskurati ho? Hum ne kisi ka bura nahi chaha, kisi ko dhoka nahi diya. Hum sirf… hum sirf ek dusre ko chahte hain. Is mein galat kya hai?”
“Galat yeh hai ke hum behan-bhai hain!” Kiran ki aawaz unchi ho gayi, phir woh khud hi sharma gayi aur aawaz neeche kar li. “Duniya kya kahegi? Ammi kya kahengi?”
“Ammi ne kal raat mujh se kaha,” Mohsin ne kaha, “ke jo faisle dil se kiye jayein, un ka bojh dil hi uthata hai. Aur unhon ne kaha ke apne dil ki suno. Kya tumhe lagta hai ammi andhi hain? Kya tumhe lagta hai unhon ne nahi dekha ke hum ek dusre ko kaise dekhte hain?”
Kiran ka chehra peela par gaya. “Tumhe kya lagta hai… ammi janti hain?”
“Mein nahi janta. Magar mein janta hun ke ammi hum se pyaar karti hain. Aur pyaar karne wale kabhi apne bachon ki khushi ke dushman nahi hote.”
Woh dono der tak bench par bethe rahe, khamosh. Peelay patte girte rahe, hawa chalti rahi. Phir Kiran ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “Mujhe waqt chahiye, Mohsin. Please. Yeh itna bara faisla hai… mein… mein darr rahi hun.”
“Mein tumhe poori zindagi de sakta hun,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Waqt kya cheez hai.”
Us shaam ghar wapas aate hue Kiran ne pehli baar Mohsin ka haath pakda — sirf ek lamhe ke liye, gaari mein bethte hue, jab koi dekh nahi raha tha. Magar us ek lamhe mein Mohsin ne poori duniya jeet li thi.
Ghar par Najma ne dono ko dekha — Kiran ka halka sa muskurata chehra, Mohsin ki chamakti aankhein. Unhon ne kuch nahi kaha. Bas chai banate hue un ke honton par ek halki si muskurahat aa gayi, woh muskurahat jo maaon ke chehre par aati hai jab un ke bache khush hon — chahe woh khushi ka raaz woh jaanti hon ya nahi.
Raat ko Najma ne apne phone mein ek nayi recording ki. Us mein unhon ne kaha: “Aslam, aaj mere bachon ke chehre par woh roshni thi jo tumhare chehre par hoti thi jab tum khush hote thay. Mein nahi janti woh roshni kis liye hai. Magar mein dua karti hun ke woh roshni kabhi na bujhe. Tum kehte thay na — bachon ko khush rehna chahiye. Bas khush. Mein ne tumhari baat maan li hai, Aslam. Ab woh jiyein, jaise un ka dil chahe.”Us raat Kiran so nahi saki. Woh apne bistar par leti chhat ko dekhti rahi, aur us ke zehen mein toofan tha. Abbu ke alfaaz — “jo dil chahe, woh karna chahiye” — baar baar goonj rahe thay. Ammi ki kahani — chaar saal tak ek phone se baatein karna — us ke dil ko cheer rahi thi. Aur Mohsin ka chehra, us ki aankhein, us ka sabr…
Us ne apni almari kholi, kapron ke neeche se Mohsin ka khat nikala. Chauthi baar parha. “Tum apne aap se jhoot na bolo.” Us ne khat ko apne seene se lagaya, aur pehli baar us ne apne aap se sach kaha.
Haan. Woh Mohsin se mohabbat karti thi. Bachpan se karti thi, magar us mohabbat ka rang waqt ke saath badal gaya tha, aur us ne us rang ko dekhne se inkar kar diya tha. Woh darti thi — ammi se, abbu ki yaad se, duniya se, khud se. Magar darr ke peeche chhup kar us ne kya paya tha? Sirf khaali raatein, rote hue takiye, aur ek dil jo har roz thoda thoda marta tha.
Kya abbu use maaf karte? Us ne socha. Abbu kehte thay, “Meri beti meri izzat hai.” Magar abbu ne yeh bhi kaha tha — apne aakhri alfaaz mein — ke khush rehna chahiye. Kya izzat ka matlab yeh hai ke insaan apni khushi qurban kar de? Ya izzat ka matlab yeh hai ke insaan sachcha rahe — apne dil ke saath, apne pyaar ke saath?
Aur ammi… ammi ne apni mohabbat chhupayi, aur us ka nateeja kya hua? Chaar saal ki tanhai. Kya Kiran bhi apni poori zindagi aise guzarna chahti thi — ek raaz ko seene mein dabaye, har raat us se baatein karti hui?
Nahi. Us ne faisla kar liya tha. Yeh faisla kisi ne us par thopa nahi tha — na Mohsin ne, na halaat ne. Yeh us ka apna tha, us ke dil ka tha. Aur pehli baar us ne mehsoos kiya ke darr ke baad jo aata hai, woh azaadi hoti hai.
Woh uthi, dupatta kandhon par dala, aur dabey paaon apne kamre se nikli. Ghar so raha tha — sirf deewar ghari ki tik tik sunayi de rahi thi. Woh Mohsin ke kamre ke darwaze par gayi. Us ka haath dastak dene ke liye utha, phir ruka. Us ka dil itni zor se dharak raha tha ke use laga darwaze ke us paar sunayi dega.
Us ne halki si dastak di.
Andar se aawaz aayi, neend mein doobi hui: “Kaun?”
“Kholiye,” Kiran ne kaha, aawaz kaanpti hui.
Darwaza khula. Mohsin khara tha, baal bikhre, aankhein neend se bhari, magar jab us ne Kiran ko dekha to us ki neend ek dum se ur gayi. “Kiran? Kya hua? Sab theek hai?”
Kiran andar aayi, darwaza band kiya. Woh us ke saamne khari thi, haath kaanp rahe thay, magar aankhon mein woh thahar tha jo faisle ke baad aata hai.
“Mohsin,” us ne kaha, “mein ne apne aap se jhoot bolna band kar diya hai.”
Mohsin ki saansein ruk gayin. “Kiran…”
“Pehele meri baat suno. Poori baat.” Kiran ne gehri saans li. “Mein darti thi. Ammi se, abbu ki yaad se, duniya se. Mujhe lagta tha ke agar mein ne apne dil ki suni, to mein sab kuch kho dungi. Magar aaj mein ne samjha — agar mein ne apne dil ki NA suni, to mein sab se qeemti cheez kho dungi. Khud ko.”
Us ne us ki taraf qadam badhaya. “Tum ne mujh se kabhi kuch nahi maanga, Mohsin. Tum ne sirf diya hai — sabr, pyaar, izzat. Tum ne mera intezar kiya, mujhe waqt diya, mujhe majboor nahi kiya. Aur is liye…” us ki aawaz bhar aayi, “is liye aaj mein tumhare paas apni marzi se aayi hun. Kisi dabao mein nahi, kisi majboori mein nahi. Apne dil se. Kyunki mera dil tumhe chahta hai. Sirf tumhe.”
Mohsin ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. Us ne us ka chehra apne haathon mein liya, itni narmi se jaise woh koi nazuk khwab ho jo toot sakta hai. “Kiran… kya tumhe yaqeen hai? Kyunki agar tumhe ek zarra bhi shak hai, to mein intezar karunga. Poori zindagi.”
“Yaqeen hai,” Kiran ne kaha, aur us ki aawaz mein woh mazbooti thi jo sirf sach mein hoti hai. “Pehli baar zindagi mein mujhe poora yaqeen hai.”
Phir us ne apne honton se us ke aansu ponchhe — ek narm sa bosa, garmi se bhara hua, magar izzat se bhi. Mohsin ne use apne qareeb kiya, aur dono der tak aise hi khare rahe — dil ki dharkanen ek dusre ko sunte hue, saansein milate hue.
Jo us raat hua, woh jaldbazi mein nahi hua. Har qadam par Mohsin rukta, Kiran ki aankhon mein dekhta, aur poochta — bina lafzon ke, sirf nazron se — “kya theek hai?” Aur har baar Kiran ka jawab us ki muskurahat mein hota, us ke haath ke dabao mein, us ke qareeb aane mein. Yeh koi zabardasti nahi thi, koi behkaya hua lamha nahi tha. Yeh do dilon ka milan tha jo saalon se ek dusre ki taraf badh rahe thay, aur aaj aakhir mein mil gaye thay.
Chand khirki se andar aa raha tha, un dono par apni chandi bikherta hua. Bahar hawa mein peepal ke patte sarsarahatay, aur door kahin se fajr se pehle ki khamoshi utar rahi thi. Kiran ne Mohsin ke seene par sar rakha, us ki dharkan sunti hui. “Pata hai,” us ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “mein ne socha tha ke agar yeh din aaya, to mujhe sharam aayegi. Magar mujhe sirf sukoon mehsoos ho raha hai. Jaise mein ghar wapas aa gayi hun.”
“Tum ghar hi ho,” Mohsin ne kaha, us ke baalon mein haath pherte hue. “Tum hamesha se ghar thi. Bas mujhe tum tak pahunchne mein waqt laga.”
Woh dono der tak baatein karte rahe — bachpan ki yaadein, abbu ki baatein, mustaqbil ke khwab. Koi jaldi nahi thi. Raat lambi thi, aur un ke paas ab poori zindagi thi. Jab Kiran ki aankhein band hone lagin, to Mohsin ne use apni chadar urhai, aur woh us ke pehlu mein so gayi — be-fikar, mehfooz, khush.
Mohsin jaagta raha, use dekhta raha. Us ne socha — kitna waqt lag gaya is lamhe tak pahunchne mein. Kitne aansu, kitne darr, kitni raatein. Magar ab jab yeh lamha aaya tha, to lagta tha ke har intezar qeemti tha. Kyunki jo cheez aasani se mil jaye, us ki qadar nahi hoti. Aur Kiran… Kiran to us ki zindagi ki sab se qeemti cheez thi.Fajr ki azan se pehle Kiran jaag gayi. Chandni ab pheeki par gayi thi, aur khirki se subah ki halki roshni aa rahi thi. Woh ek lamhe ke liye leti rahi, Mohsin ki baanhon mein, us ki garmi mehsoos karti hui. Phir us ne dheemi se us ka haath hataya, uthi, aur apne kapre theek kiye.
Mohsin jaag gaya. “Kiran?”
“Azan hone wali hai,” us ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Ammi uth jayengi. Mujhe apne kamre mein hona chahiye.”
Woh us ke paas aayi, us ke maathe par bosa diya. “Shukriya,” us ne kaha.
“Kis liye?”
“Mera intezar karne ke liye. Mujhe waqt dene ke liye. Aur…” us ki aankhein chamkin, “mujhe mujh se milane ke liye.”
Woh dabey paaon apne kamre mein wapas chali gayi, aur darwaza band karke bistar par let gayi — bilkul waqt par, kyunki paanch minute baad use ammi ke uthne ki aahat sunayi di. Us ne aankhein band kar lin, magar us ke honton par muskurahat thi. Pehli baar kayi mahinon mein, us ne sukoon se saans li.
Nashtay par sab kuch normal tha — ya normal lag raha tha. Magar Najma ne dekha ke Kiran ke chehre par woh udaasi nahi thi jo pichle kayi mahinon se thi. Us ki aankhon mein ek nayi roshni thi. Aur Mohsin… Mohsin to aisa lag raha tha jaise use duniya mil gayi ho. Najma ne chai ka cup uthaya, aur apne bachon ko dekhti rahi. Un ke dil mein ek sawal utha, magar unhon ne use wahin dafna diya. Kuch sawalon ke jawab nahi maange jaate. Kuch khushiyan bas dekhi jaati hain, aur un par dua di jaati hai.
“Ammi, aaj mein aap ke saath bazaar chalungi,” Kiran ne kaha, paratha khate hue. “Suna hai naye kapre aaye hain.”
Najma hairan huin — Kiran ne mahinon se un ke saath bazaar jaane ki khwahish nahi ki thi. “Zaroor, beta. Tayyar ho jao.”
Bazaar mein maa-beti ne khub waqt guzara. Kapre dekhe, chooriyan khareedin, aur gol gappe khaye — wohi thela jahan Kiran bachpan mein zid karti thi. Wapsi par rickshaw mein Kiran ne achanak ammi ka haath pakad liya.
“Ammi,” us ne kaha, “aap khush hain?”
Najma ne use dekha. “Yeh kaisa sawal hai?”
“Bas aise hi. Mein chahti hun ke aap khush rahen. Hamesha.”
Najma ki aankhein bhar aayin. Unhon ne Kiran ka haath thapthapaya. “Jab mere bache khush hote hain, to mein khush hoti hun. Tum dono ki khushi hi meri khushi hai, beta. Yeh hamesha yaad rakhna.”
Kiran ne apna sar ammi ke kandhe par rakh diya. Rickshaw Sialkot ki galiyon se guzarta raha — purani deewarein, naye billboard, bachon ka shor. Aur Kiran ne socha — kitni ajeeb hai zindagi. Kal tak woh is sheher mein ghut rahi thi, aur aaj yahi sheher use jannat lag raha tha. Farq sirf itna tha ke kal us ka dil qaid tha, aur aaj azaad.
Us shaam Mohsin ne Najma se kaha ke woh apne saath un ka woh purana phone le jaana chahta hai — “abbu ki aawaz sunne ke liye.” Najma ne pehle hichkichayi, phir phone use de diya. “Sambhal kar rakhna,” unhon ne kaha. “Is mein meri zindagi hai.”
“Is mein hamari zindagi hai, ammi,” Mohsin ne kaha.
Raat ko Mohsin ne apne kamre mein phone on kiya, aur Kiran ko bulaya. Dono ne mil kar Aslam ki recordings suni — un ki hansi, un ki baatein, un ki duaen. Ek recording mein Aslam keh rahe thay: “Najma, jab bache baray ho jayein, to unhe apne faisle khud karne dena. Hum ne unhe parwarish di hai, ab unhe zindagi jeene do. Maa-baap ka kaam sirf dua dena hai, faisle bachon ke hote hain.”
Kiran ro pari. “Abbu kitne samajhdar thay,” us ne kaha.
“Hain,” Mohsin ne theek kiya. “Abbu kitne samajhdar HAIN. Woh is phone mein zinda hain, hamari yaadon mein zinda hain. Aur…” us ne Kiran ka haath pakda, “hamare dilon mein.”
Us raat un dono ne faisla kiya ke woh Najma ko sab kuch batayenge — waqt aane par, sahi tareeqe se. Abhi nahi. Abhi unhe apni mohabbat ko thoda waqt dena tha, use mazboot karna tha, taake jab duniya ke saamne aaye, to woh tootne wali na ho. Magar chhupana aur intezar karna do alag cheezein hain — yeh un dono ne samajh liya tha. Woh chhupa nahi rahe thay. Woh bas sahi waqt ka intezar kar rahe thay.
Aur sahi waqt hamesha aata hai — un logon ke liye jo sachche hote hain.Teen hafte baad Mohsin Lahore wapas chala gaya. Uski chhutti khatm ho gayi thi, aur company mein ek naya project shuru ho raha tha. Station par Kiran use chhorne aayi thi — ammi ke saath, zahir hai. Magar jab Najma kulfi lene gayin, to un dono ko do minute mile.
“Phone karna,” Kiran ne kaha, us ka haath pakre hue.
“Roz karunga. Aur tum… tum apna khayal rakhna. Aur ammi ka bhi.”
“Hum dono ek dusre ka khayal rakhenge,” Kiran ne muskurakar kaha. “Tum bas jaldi aana.”
Train chali gayi, aur Kiran platform par khari use dekhti rahi jab tak woh nazron se ojhal nahi ho gayi. Najma ne us ke kandhe par haath rakha. “Woh wapas aayega, beta. Apne ghar wapas aana har musafir ki fitrat hai.”
Lahore mein Mohsin ka kamra wahi tha — chhota, saaf-suthra, khirki se bahar ek neem ka darakht. Magar ab woh kamra use khaali nahi lagta tha. Kyunki ab us ke paas do cheezein thin jo pehle nahi thin: Kiran ki mohabbat, aur abbu ki aawaz wala phone. Har raat woh Najma ki tarah phone sunta — kabhi abbu ki recording, kabhi Kiran se baat. Aur kabhi kabhi woh khud bhi recording karta — apne din ke baare mein, apne khwabon ke baare mein — jaise ammi karti thin. Us ne samjha tha ke yeh pagalpan nahi, yeh mohabbat ka tareeqa hai: apne pyaaron ko apne saath rakhna, chahe woh door hon ya… is duniya mein na hon.
Kiran se us ki roz baat hoti — kabhi video call, kabhi sirf aawaz. Woh baatein jo pehle nahi hoti thin, ab hoti thin. Kiran use apne college ke qisse sunati, apni sahayliyon ki baatein, apne mustaqbil ke khwab. “Mein soch rahi hun ke MA ke baad CSS karun,” us ne ek raat kaha. “Tumhe kya lagta hai?”
“Mujhe lagta hai ke tum jo bhi karogi, kamal karogi,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Magar CSS ke liye tumhe Lahore aana parega.”
“To aa jaungi,” Kiran ne kaha, aur dono hans pare. Magar us hansi ke peeche ek wada tha — ek din, ek sheher, ek ghar.
Sialkot mein Kiran ki zindagi bhi badal gayi thi. Woh ab woh larki nahi thi jo darr ke saaye mein jeeti thi. Us ki sahayli Hira ne ek din kaha, “Kiran, tum badal gayi ho. Pehle tum hamesha udaas rehti thi. Ab tumhare chehre par noor hai. Kya baat hai? Koi larka hai?”
Kiran ne sharma kar kaha, “Aisi koi baat nahi.”
“Jhoot!” Hira ne use chhera. “Tumhari aankhein bata rahi hain. Chalo batao, kaun hai woh khush-naseeb?”
Kiran ne kuch nahi kaha. Magar us raat us ne apni diary mein likha: “Haan, koi hai. Woh meri zindagi hai. Aur ek din duniya bhi janegi. Magar aaj nahi. Aaj yeh raaz sirf mera hai, aur is raaz mein jo khushi hai, woh mein kisi se baantna nahi chahti.”
Najma ne bhi tabdeeli mehsoos ki thi. Un ke bache khush thay — yeh un ke liye sab se bari khushi thi. Unhon ne apne phone mein ek din record kiya: “Aslam, aaj Kiran ne mere saath bazaar chalne ko kaha. Mahinon baad. Aur Mohsin roz phone karta hai, pehle se zyada. Mere bache khush hain, Aslam. Aur jab woh khush hain, to mujhe lagta hai ke tum bhi khush ho — jahan bhi ho.”
Phir unhon ne ek aur baat record ki, dheemi aawaz mein, jaise khud se bhi sharma rahi hon: “Aslam, mein tumhe ek baat batana chahti hun. Mujhe lagta hai… mujhe lagta hai ke mere bachon ke darmiyan kuch hai. Kuch aisa jo mein samajh nahi pa rahi, magar mehsoos kar rahi hun. Pehle mein darti thi. Magar phir mein ne socha — tum kehte thay na, bachon ko khush rehne do. To mein unhe khush rehne dungi. Chahe duniya kuch kahe. Meri dua un ke saath hai. Hamesha.”
Yeh recording unhon ne kisi ko nahi sunayi. Yeh sirf un ke aur Aslam ke darmiyan thi. Magar is recording ke baad Najma ke dil ka bojh halka ho gaya tha. Unhon ne apne bachon ko azaad kar diya tha — apne dil se, apni dua se.
December ki ek shaam ko jab Mohsin ghar aaya — is baar lambi chhutti par — to Najma ne use gale lagaya, aur Kiran ko bhi. Teenon der tak aise hi khare rahe, ek dusre ko pakre hue. Koi kuch nahi bola. Kuch lamhe aise hote hain jahan lafz chhote par jaate hain.
Raat ko khane par Najma ne elaan kiya: “Kal hum phir se valime ki video dekhenge. Poori family ke saath. Aur is baar mein pakode banaungi.”
Sab hans pare. Magar Mohsin aur Kiran ne ek dusre ko dekha, aur un ki nazron mein wohi baat thi jo us pehli screening wali raat thi — magar ab us mein darr nahi tha. Ab us mein sirf pyaar tha, aur sukoon tha, aur ek khamosh wada tha ke jo bhi ho, woh ek dusre ka saath nahi chhorenge.Agli shaam phir se sehan mein screen lagi. Is baar mausam aur bhi khubsurat tha — December ki thand, saaf aasman, aur hawa mein sardi ki woh khushbu jo Sialkot ki sardiyon ko khaas banati hai. Najma ne pakode banaye thay, saath mein hari chutney, aur chai ka bara degcha. Khandan ke kuch log phir se aaye thay — Razia, Hira, aur chacha-zad bhai.
Video phir se chali. Wohi valima, wohi chehre, wohi hansi. Magar is baar Mohsin ne jab woh frame dekha — Najma ke dupatte mein jhalakta dusra phone — to us ke chehre par muskurahat aa gayi. Ab woh raaz nahi tha. Ab woh ek nishani thi — mohabbat ki, yaad ki, aur us sach ki jo ab is ghar ka hissa ban chuka tha.
Video ke dauraan Najma Mohsin ke paas aayin, aur dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “Beta, kya tum woh recording sab ko sunaoge? Tumhare abbu wali?”
Mohsin hairan hua. “Sab ko? Ammi, yeh to aap ki…”
“Meri thi,” Najma ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Ab yeh sab ki hai. Tumhare abbu ki aawaz sirf meri amanat nahi, poore khandan ki amanat hai. Aur un ke alfaaz…” unhon ne ruka, “un ke alfaaz sab ko sunne chahiye.”
Video khatm hone ke baad, jab sab chai pee rahe thay, to Najma ne sab ko khamosh karaya. “Aaj mein tum sab ko kuch sunana chahti hun,” unhon ne kaha. Un ki aawaz mein woh thahar tha jo sirf himmat se aata hai. “Mere shauhar, tum sab ke bhai, chacha, mamu — Aslam ki aawaz. Un ke jaane se pehle ke aakhri alfaaz.”
Sehan mein sannata chha gaya. Mohsin ne phone nikala, recording chalayi. Aur phir us baarish-dhoi October ki raat ki tarah, December ki is sard raat mein Aslam ki aawaz goonji: “Najma… mere bachon ko khush rehna chahiye. Bas khush… zindagi bahut chhoti hai… dar ke peeche apni khushiyan qurban nahi karni chahiye…”
Jab recording khatm hui, to kayi aankhein nam thin. Razia ne Najma ko gale lagaya. “Baji, aap ne yeh khazana chaar saal tak chhupaye rakha?”
“Chhupaya nahi, sambhala tha,” Najma ne kaha. “Aur ab waqt aa gaya tha ise baantne ka. Khushiyan baantne se badhti hain — aur yaadein bhi.”
Us raat jab sab chale gaye, to teenon — Najma, Mohsin, Kiran — sehan mein bethe rahe. Aag jal rahi thi, chai ke cup khaali ho chuke thay, aur aasman par sitare chamak rahe thay.
“Ammi,” Kiran ne aakhir mein kaha, “kya mein aap se ek baat pooch sakti hun?”
“Poochho, beta.”
“Agar… agar hum kabhi koi aisa faisla karein jo duniya ko ajeeb lage, magar hamare dil ko sahi lage — to kya aap hamara saath dengi?”
Najma ne use dekha — der tak dekha. Phir unhon ne us ka haath pakda, aur dusre haath se Mohsin ka. “Mere bachon,” unhon ne kaha, aawaz mein woh gehrayi jo sirf maaon mein hoti hai, “mein ne apni zindagi mein ek sabak seekha hai. Duniya ke liye jeena aasaan hai — bas un ke usoolon par chalo, aur woh tumhe qubool kar lenge. Magar dil ke liye jeena mushkil hai — kyunki us ke liye himmat chahiye. Aur jo himmat karta hai, use akela nahi chhorna chahiye.”
Un ki aankhein bhar aayin, magar woh muskurati rahi. “Tum dono mere dil ke tukre ho. Tumhari khushi ke liye mein duniya se larr sakti hun. Bas ek wada karo — kabhi ek dusre ka saath nahi chhoroge. Kabhi jhoot nahi bologe. Aur kabhi… kabhi apne dil ki aawaz ko dabao ge nahi. Chahe woh aawaz kitni hi dheemi kyun na ho.”
Mohsin aur Kiran ne ek dusre ko dekha. Un ki aankhon mein aansu thay, magar un aansuon mein ab darr nahi tha. Sirf shukr tha — us maa ke liye jo samajh gayi thi bina kahe, jo maaf kar gayi thi bina maange, jo dua de gayi thi bina shart ke.
“Hum wada karte hain, ammi,” dono ne ek saath kaha.
Najma ne dono ko apne seene se lagaya. Aur us sard December ki raat mein, Sialkot ki us purani haveli ke sehan mein, teen dil ek ho gaye — maa ka, beti ka, bete ka. Koi raaz nahi, koi darr nahi, koi sharam nahi. Sirf mohabbat — saaf, sachchi, aur hamesha ke liye.Us ke baad ke dinon mein Mohsin aur Kiran ne mil kar abbu ke phone ki purani recordings suni — ghanton tak. Har recording ek khidki thi un ke waliden ki zindagi mein, un ki mohabbat mein, un ke us daur mein jab woh jawan thay.
Ek recording mein Aslam keh rahe thay: “Najma, aaj office mein boss ne daanta. Magar jab mein ne tumhara bheja hua khana khola — aalu gosht — to saara gussa ur gaya. Tumhare haath mein jadu hai, meri jaan.”
Najma ki hansi recording mein sunayi di — woh hansi jo ab is ghar mein kam sunayi deti thi. “Jadu nahi, mohabbat hai. Aur mohabbat mein sab se bara masala waqt hota hai. Mein tumhare khane mein apna waqt dalti hun.”
Ek aur recording mein Aslam apne bachon ke baare mein baat kar rahe thay: “Mohsin ne aaj phir apni cycle se Kiran ko giraya. Dono ro rahe thay. Mein ne dono ko samjhaya, phir dono ko ice cream khilayi. Najma kehti hai ke mein bachon ko bigar raha hun. Shayad sahi kehti hai. Magar jab woh dono hanste hain, to mujhe lagta hai ke meri poori zindagi ki mehnat vasool ho gayi.”
Kiran ne yeh sun kar Mohsin ko dekha, aansu ponchhte hue. “Yaad hai? Tum ne mujhe cycle se giraya tha, aur phir khud ro pare thay.”
“Yaad hai,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Abbu ne hum dono ko god mein uthaya tha. Unhon ne kaha tha, ‘bhai-behan ka rishta duniya ka sab se mazboot rishta hota hai.'”
“Aur ab?” Kiran ne dheemi aawaz mein poocha. “Ab humara rishta kya hai?”
Mohsin ne us ka haath pakda. “Ab bhi wahi hai, Kiran. Bhai-behan ka rishta — magar us ke saath kuch aur bhi. Kuch jo hum ne chuna hai, jo hum ne kamaya hai. Abbu ne kaha tha na — dil ke faisle dil karta hai. Hum ne apne dil ka faisla kiya hai.”
Ek raat unhon ne sab se purani recording suni — woh jab Aslam aur Najma ki shaadi ko sirf ek saal hua tha. Aslam ki aawaz jawan thi, bhari hui: “Najma, aaj humari shaadi ko ek saal ho gaya. Log kehte hain ke pehla saal mushkil hota hai. Magar mere liye yeh saal meri zindagi ka sab se khubsurat saal tha. Tum ne mujhe sikhaya ke mohabbat ka matlab sirf saath rehna nahi, ek dusre ko samajhna hai. Mein wada karta hun — chahe kuch bhi ho, mein tumhara saath kabhi nahi chhorunga. Is duniya mein, ya us duniya mein.”
Najma, jo darwaze par khari sun rahi thin — woh andar aayi thin bina aahat ke — un ki aankhon se aansu beh rahe thay. “Unhon ne apna wada nibhaya,” unhon ne kaha, kamre mein aate hue. “Is duniya mein to woh chale gaye, magar us duniya se bhi woh mera saath nahi chhorte. Har raat un ki aawaz sunti hun, to lagta hai woh yahin hain.”
Teenon ne us raat aur bhi recordings suni — kabhi hanste hue, kabhi rote hue. Aur har recording ke saath un ka rishta gehra hota gaya. Kyunki yaadein jab baanti jaati hain, to woh bojh nahi rehti — woh taqat ban jaati hain.
Ek recording mein Aslam ne kuch aisa kaha jo Mohsin ke dil mein utar gaya: “Najma, mein ne aaj ek dost ko dekha — us ne apne beton se jhagra kiya, sirf is liye ke unhon ne us ki marzi ke khilaf shaadi ki. Mein ne socha — kya maa-baap ka pyaar itna kamzor hota hai ke woh bachon ki khushi bardasht na kar sake? Mein ne faisla kiya hai — mere bache jo bhi karein, jise bhi chahein, mein un ke saath hun. Mera pyaar un ki khushi se bara nahi, un ki khushi ke liye hai.”
Mohsin ne Kiran ko dekha. Dono ki aankhon mein wahi baat thi — abbu ne, apne jeete ji, unhe ijazat de di thi. Un ke jaane ke baad bhi un ki dua un ke saath thi.
“Abbu hamesha hum se aage thay,” Kiran ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Hum sochte thay ke woh purane khayalat ke hain. Magar woh to hum sab se aage thay.”
“Isi liye to woh abbu thay,” Mohsin ne kaha.January ki ek raat ko phir baarish hui — wohi baarish jo October mein hui thi, jab yeh kahani shuru hui thi. Magar is baar baarish mein udaasi nahi thi. Is baar baarish mein khushi thi.
Mohsin chhat par gaya, baarish mein bheegne ke liye. Woh bachpan se baarish ka deewana tha — ammi kehti thin ke woh baarish mein paida hua tha, isi liye. Woh chhat par khara baarish ko mehsoos kar raha tha jab use seedhiyon par aahat sunayi di.
Kiran thi, haath mein do cup chai liye, plastic se dhake hue taake baarish mein bheeg na jayein. “Socha tum yahin hoge,” us ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Baarish ke deewane.”
Dono chhat ki chhoti si chhappar ke neeche bethe — woh chhappar jo Aslam ne banwayi thi, taake baarish mein beth kar chai pi ja sake. Baarish tez ho rahi thi, chhappar par tap tap ki aawaz aa rahi thi, aur door sheher ki roshniyan baarish mein dhundli lag rahi thin.
“Yaad hai,” Kiran ne kaha, chai ka cup haathon mein liye, “jab hum chhote thay, to baarish mein yahin beth kar pakode khate thay? Ammi kehti thin ke baarish mein pakode khana Sialkotiyon ka qaumi farz hai.”
Mohsin hans para. “Aur abbu kehte thay ke jo bacha baarish mein sab se zyada bheegta hai, woh sab se bahadur hota hai. Hum dono mein muqabla hota tha.”
“Aur hamesha tum jeette thay,” Kiran ne kaha, “kyunki tum larke thay, aur larkon ko ammi daantti nahi thin itna.”
“Ghalat,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Tum jeetti thin. Kyunki tum roti thin, aur rote hue bachon ko ammi kuch nahi kehti thin.”
Dono hans pare. Phir khamoshi chha gayi — woh khamoshi jo sirf un logon ke darmiyan hoti hai jo ek dusre ko samajhte hain.
“Kiran,” Mohsin ne aakhir mein kaha, “kya tum kabhi sochti ho ke humari kahani ajeeb hai?”
“Har roz,” Kiran ne imaandari se kaha. “Magar phir mein sochti hun — kya mohabbat kabhi aam hoti hai? Ammi aur abbu ki kahani dekho — woh bhi to ajeeb thi. Abbu ne ammi ko pehli baar dekha tha jab woh un ke ghar paani pene aaye thay. Ek ghont paani, aur poori zindagi ka saath. Duniya kehti hai ke mohabbat aisi nahi hoti. Magar hui thi.”
“To tumhe lagta hai ke humari kahani bhi… theek hai?”
Kiran ne us ki taraf dekha, baarish ki halki roshni mein us ka chehra chamak raha tha. “Mohsin, mein ne apni zindagi mein sirf ek cheez seekhi hai — sach wohi hota hai jo dil mehsoos kare. Duniya ke usool badal jaate hain, logon ki baatein badal jaati hain, magar dil ka sach nahi badalta. Mera dil kehta hai ke tum mere ho. Aur mein tumhari hun. Bas. Is se aage mujhe kuch nahi sochna.”
Mohsin ne us ka haath pakda. Baarish tez ho gayi thi, aur chhappar ke neeche woh dono duniya se alag thay — sirf woh, chai, aur baarish ki aawaz.
“Kya tumhe pata hai,” Mohsin ne kaha, “jab mein Lahore mein tha, to har baarish mein tumhe yaad karta tha? Wahan baarish hoti thi, aur mein apni khirki par khara sochta tha ke Sialkot mein bhi baarish ho rahi hogi, aur tum chhat par hogi.”
“Mein chhat par hoti thi,” Kiran ne kaha, aawaz bhar aayi. “Aur mein bhi tumhe yaad karti thi. Har baarish mein. Har chandni raat mein. Har us lamhe mein jab dil udaas hota tha.”
Us ne apna sar us ke kandhe par rakha. Mohsin ne use apne qareeb kiya, aur dono baarish ko dekhte rahe. Koi jaldi nahi thi, koi khwahish nahi thi — sirf sukoon tha, aur woh gehri khushi jo sirf unhe milti hai jo apne pyaar ko pa lete hain.
“Vasla ka mausam,” Kiran ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha. “Ammi kehti thin ke baarish ka mausam vasl ka mausam hota hai — milne ka mausam.”
“To phir yeh hamara mausam hai,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Hamesha ke liye.”
Baarish raat bhar hoti rahi. Aur chhappar ke neeche, do dil ek dusre ki dharkan sunte rahe — be-fikar, khush, aur poori tarah ek dusre ke.March mein Sialkot par bahar aayi — woh bahar jo Punjab ko jannat bana deti hai. Sarson ke khet peele, aam ke darakhton par bore, aur hawa mein phoolon ki khushbu. Kiran ne CSS ki tayyari ke liye Lahore jaane ka faisla kiya tha — wahan ek achhi academy thi, aur… aur wahan Mohsin tha.
Jaane se pehle ki raat ko Najma ne Kiran ke kamre mein aakar us ke saath der tak baatein ki. “Lahore bara sheher hai, beta,” unhon ne kaha, us ke baal sanwarte hue. “Wahan apna khayal rakhna. Aur…”
“Aur?” Kiran ne poocha.
Najma ne muskurakar kaha, “Aur khush rehna. Bas.”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. Us ne ammi ko gale lagaya, zor se. “Ammi, aap duniya ki sab se achhi ammi hain.”
“Yeh to har maa hoti hai,” Najma ne kaha, magar un ki aawaz mein fakhr tha.
Lahore mein Kiran ne ek larkiyon ke hostel mein kamra liya — Mohsin ke flat se bees minute ki doori par. Woh roz academy jaati, shaam ko parhti, aur hafte mein do baar Mohsin se milti — kabhi kisi restaurant mein, kabhi park mein, kabhi us ke flat par chai peene. Un ki mohabbat ab chhup chhup kar nahi thi — kam az kam un dono ke darmiyan nahi. Woh ek dusre ke saath khul kar hanste thay, khul kar baatein karte thay.
Ek din Mohsin use Lahore Fort le gaya. Badshahi Masjid ke saamne woh dono bethe, aur Kiran ne kaha, “Pata hai, jab mein chhoti thi, to sochti thi ke Lahore bahut door hai. Ab lagta hai ke ghar se zyada door nahi.”
“Ghar wahan hota hai jahan dil ho,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Aur tumhara dil…”
“Mera dil Sialkot mein bhi hai, aur yahan bhi,” Kiran ne kaha, us ka haath pakarte hue. “Dil ko do jagah rehna aata hai. Maaon se seekha hai.”
Sialkot mein Najma akeli thi, magar pehle jaisi akeli nahi. Unhon ne apne aap ko masroof kar liya tha — mohalle ki auraton ke saath mil kar unhon ne ek chhota sa silai center khola tha, jahan ghareeb larkiyon ko muft silai sikhayi jaati thi. “Mere paas waqt hai, aur un ke paas zaroorat,” unhon ne kaha tha jab Mohsin ne poocha ke yeh khayal kahan se aaya. “Aur waqt ko achhe kaam mein lagana hi zindagi hai.”
Center ki larkiyan Najma ko “baji” kehti thin, aur woh unhe apni betiyon ki tarah pyaar karti thin. Ek din ek larki ne un se poocha, “Baji, aap itni khush kaise rehti hain? Aap ke shauhar to…”
Najma ne muskurakar kaha, “Khushi koi cheez nahi jo bahar se aaye, beta. Khushi woh beej hai jo dil mein boya jaata hai. Mere shauhar ne mere dil mein mohabbat ka beej boya tha. Woh to chale gaye, magar beej ab bhi hai. Aur jab tak beej hai, phool khilte rahenge.”
Larki ne samjha ya nahi, magar us ne sar hila diya. Aur Najma ne us din apne phone mein record kiya: “Aslam, aaj mein ne tumhari baat ek larki ko sunayi. Woh hairan thi. Magar mein khush thi — kyunki tumhari mohabbat ab sirf meri nahi, sab ki hai. Tum zinda ho, Aslam. Har us dil mein jo mohabbat karta hai.”
Ek shaam Mohsin ne phone par Najma se kaha, “Ammi, aap ne kabhi apne liye kuch nahi kiya. Kya aap khush hain? Sach batayein.”
Najma ne kuch der khamoshi ikhtiyar ki, phir kaha, “Beta, khushi ka matlab yeh nahi ke dard na ho. Khushi ka matlab yeh hai ke dard ke saath jeena aa jaye. Mujhe tumhare abbu ki yaad ab bhi aati hai, har roz. Magar ab woh yaad mujhe rulati nahi, hasati hai. Kyunki ab mein janti hun ke woh kahin nahi gaye. Woh is phone mein hain, meri yaadon mein hain, aur…” unhon ne ruka, “aur tum dono ki muskurahat mein hain.”
Mohsin ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Ammi, hum aap se bahut pyaar karte hain.”
“Mein janti hun, beta,” Najma ne kaha. “Aur yahi meri zindagi ki sab se bari daulat hai.”April mein ek jummay ko teenon Aslam ki qabr par gaye. Qabrastan sheher se bahar tha, ek purane peepal ke darakht ke neeche. Aslam ki qabr saaf-suthri thi — Najma har hafte aati thin, phool charhati thin, aur der tak wahan bethti thin.
Us din teenon ne mil kar fateha parhi. Phir Najma ne phool charhaye, aur Kiran ne agarbatti jalayi. Mohsin ne qabr ke paas beth kar mitti ko chhua, jaise apne baap ka haath chhu raha ho.
“Abbu,” us ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “hum aaye hain. Aap se milne. Aap se baat karne.”
Hawa chali, peepal ke patte sarsarahaye. Kiran ne apne dupatte se aankhein ponchhin, phir kaha, “Abbu, mein aap ko kuch batana chahti hun. Mein… mein ne apne dil ki suni hai. Aap ne kaha tha na — jo dil chahe, woh karna chahiye. To mein ne kiya. Aur mein khush hun, abbu. Pehli baar zindagi mein poori tarah khush.”
Najma ne dono ko dekha, phir qabr ki taraf. “Aslam,” unhon ne kaha, aawaz mein woh narmi jo sirf mohabbat mein hoti hai, “tumhare bache baray ho gaye hain. Unhon ne apne faisle khud kiye hain. Aur mein ne un ka saath diya hai — jaise tum ne kaha tha. Tum kehte thay na, maa-baap ka kaam sirf dua dena hai. To meri dua un ke saath hai. Aur tumhari dua bhi — mein janti hun.”
Teenon der tak wahan bethe rahe. Koi jaldi nahi thi. Qabrastan mein khamoshi thi, magar woh khamoshi udaas nahi thi. Woh khamoshi pur-sukoon thi — jaise Aslam wahin hon, unhe dekh rahe hon, aur muskura rahe hon.
Wapsi par gaari mein Kiran ne kaha, “Pata hai, jab mein chhoti thi, to abbu se darti thi. Woh sakht lagte thay. Magar ab lagta hai ke woh sab se narm dil thay.”
“Woh sakht nahi thay,” Najma ne kaha, “woh zimmedar thay. Aur zimmedar aadmi ko duniya sakht samajhti hai. Magar ghar ke andar woh mom thay. Tum dono ke liye to woh jaan dete thay.”
Mohsin ne driving karte hue kaha, “Ammi, aap ne kabhi socha ke agar abbu hote, to woh kya kehte? Hamare baare mein?”
Najma ne kuch der socha, phir kaha, “Woh kehte — ‘mere bachon ne apne dil ki suni, aur mein un ke saath hun.’ Kyunki tumhare abbu ko ek baat samajh aayi thi jo bahut kam logon ko aati hai — ke pyaar ka matlab qabu pana nahi, azaad karna hai.”
Gaari Sialkot ki taraf barh rahi thi, aur peeche qabrastan mein peepal ka darakht hawa mein jhool raha tha — jaise koi alvida keh raha ho, ya koi dua de raha ho.
Us raat ghar par Najma ne apne phone mein aakhri recording ki — aakhri is liye nahi ke woh ruk gayin, balkay is liye ke us ke baad unhe kehne ko kuch naya nahi tha, sirf wahi purani mohabbat thi jo har roz nayi lagti thi. Unhon ne kaha: “Aslam, aaj hum tumhari qabr par gaye thay. Teenon. Tumhare bache tum se baatein kar rahe thay, aur mujhe laga ke tum sun rahe ho. Shayad sun rahe thay. Mohabbat mar nahi sakti, Aslam. Woh sirf roop badalti hai — kabhi yaad ban jaati hai, kabhi dua, kabhi aawaz ek purane phone mein. Magar rehti hai. Hamesha rehti hai. Aur jab tak mein hun, tum ho. Aur jab mein nahi hun gi, to hamare bache tumhe zinda rakhenge. Yeh mera wada hai.”
Unhon ne phone band kiya, use apne takiye ke neeche rakha, aur sukoon se so gayin — pehli baar chaar saalon mein, bina aansuon ke.May mein ek din aisa hua jis ka darr Kiran ko pehle din se tha. Razia ki beti, jo Lahore mein rehti thi, us ne Kiran aur Mohsin ko Fortress Square mein dekha tha — haath mein haath dalay, hanste hue. Us ne apni ammi ko phone kiya, ammi ne Razia ko bataya, aur Razia ne… Najma ko phone kiya.
“Najma baji,” Razia ne kaha, aawaz mein woh fikar jo aksar chugli ka libas hoti hai, “mujhe aap se ek baat karni hai. Meri beti ne Kiran aur Mohsin ko Lahore mein dekha. Woh… woh aise thay jaise… jaise koi couple ho. Baji, log baatein bana rahe hain.”
Najma ne phone kaan se lagaye rakha, chehra pur-sukoon. “Razia, tum ne mujhe phone kyun kiya?”
“Taake aap sambhal jayein! Baji, yeh behan-bhai hain! Log kya kahenge?”
“Log kya kahenge,” Najma ne dheemi aawaz mein dohraya. “Razia, tumhe yaad hai jab tumhare shauhar ne tumhe talaq ki dhamki di thi, aur tum mere paas aayi thin roti hui? Tab log kya kehte thay? Tum ne un ki parwah ki thi?”
Razia khamosh ho gayi.
“Sunno, Razia,” Najma ne kaha, aawaz mein woh mazbooti jo sirf sach mein hoti hai. “Mere bache mere hain. Un ki khushi meri zimmedari hai, logon ki zubaan nahi. Aur jo log baatein banate hain, un ke paas apni zindagi mein karne ko kuch nahi hota, isi liye woh dusron ki zindagi mein jhankte hain. Tum apni beti se kehna ke woh apne kaam se kaam rakhe. Aur tum bhi.”
“Baji, aap samajh nahi rahi —”
“Mein sab samajh rahi hun,” Najma ne kaha. “Aur mein ne apna faisla kar liya hai. Mere bachon ke khilaf jo bolega, woh mere khilaf bolega. Aur mere khilaf bolne walon ke liye mere darwaze band hain.”
Us ne phone rakh diya. Us ke haath kaanp rahe thay — gusse se nahi, himmat se. Us ne apne bachon ke liye duniya se larrne ka wada kiya tha, aur aaj us wade ka pehla imtihan tha.
Us raat us ne Mohsin aur Kiran ko phone kiya — conference call. “Bachon,” us ne kaha, “tumhe ek baat batani hai. Log baatein kar rahe hain. Razia ne phone kiya tha.”
Kiran ka chehra peela par gaya. “Ammi, hum… humne…”
“Chup,” Najma ne narmi se kaha. “Pehle meri baat suno. Mein ne Razia ko jawab de diya hai. Aur ab tum dono se keh rahi hun — daro mat. Duniya ki baaton se dar kar jeena, jeena nahi hota. Tum dono ne apne dil ki suni hai, aur mein tumhare saath hun. Magar ek baat yaad rakhna — ehtiyat bhi zaroori hai. Duniya ko badalne mein waqt lagta hai. Jab tak woh na badle, apni hifazat khud karo. Samjhe?”
“Ji, ammi,” dono ne kaha, aankhein bhar aayin.
“Aur ek baat,” Najma ne kaha, aawaz mein halki si hansi. “Agli baar Fortress Square jao, to haath chhupa kar pakarna. Wahan Razia ki beti rehti hai.”
Teenon hans pare — us hansi mein darr nahi tha, sirf pyaar tha, aur woh himmat thi jo sirf apnon ke saath se aati hai.
Us ke baad Razia ne phir kabhi is baat ka zikr nahi kiya. Aur dheere dheere baatein bhi kam ho gayin — kyunki baatein banane walon ko jab jawab mil jaata hai, to un ki zubaan band ho jaati hai. Aur Najma ka jawab itna saaf tha ke us ke baad kisi mein himmat nahi hui phir se munh kholne ki.
Kiran ne ek din ammi se kaha, “Ammi, aap ne hamare liye duniya se larrne ka faisla kar liya?”
Najma ne us ke sar par haath phera. “Beta, maa banne ka matlab hi yeh hai — apne bachon ke liye duniya se larna. Tumhare abbu kehte thay ke maa woh dariya hai jo apne bachon ko doobne nahi deta, chahe khud kitna hi gehra kyun na ho. Mein wohi dariya hun, Kiran. Aur tum dono meri lehrein ho.”June mein Hira ki shaadi tay ho gayi — aur Kiran us ki sab se qareebi saheli hone ke naate har taqreeb mein pesh pesh thi. Mehndi ki raat ko haveli ka sehan phir se saja tha, magar is baar dulhan Hira thi, peele jore mein, haathon mein mehndi lagaye.
Kiran ne us raat khubsurat dance kiya — woh dance jo us ne bachpan mein ammi se seekha tha. Dhol ki thaap par jab woh ghoomi, to us ka lehnga phail gaya, aur us ki hansi sehan mein goonj gayi. Mohsin ek kone mein khara use dekh raha tha, aur us ke dil mein fakhr tha — yeh larki, jo kabhi darr ke saaye mein jeeti thi, aaj khul kar hans rahi thi, khul kar jee rahi thi.
Dance ke baad Kiran paseene se sharabor Mohsin ke paas aayi. “Kaisa laga?” us ne poocha, saans phool rahi thi.
“Tum ne mehfil loot li,” Mohsin ne kaha, use paani ka glass dete hue. “Ammi keh rahi thin ke tum bilkul un jaisi lag rahi thin jab woh jawan thin.”
Kiran ki aankhein chamkin. “Sach? Ammi ne dance kiya tha?”
“Abbu kehte thay ke ammi ki shaadi mein unhon ne aisa dance kiya tha ke sab dekhte reh gaye thay.”
“Phir to yeh virasat mein mila hai,” Kiran ne hansi. “Mohabbat bhi, aur dance bhi.”
Hira ki shaadi ke valime mein phir se video bani — aur is baar Kiran ne khud camera sambhala tha. Us ne har khubsurat lamha qaid kiya: dulhan ki hansi, maa ki dua, doston ke qehqahe. Jab woh camera se dekh rahi thi, to use ehsaas hua ke zindagi kitni khubsurat hai jab use khul kar jiya jaye. Pehle woh hamesha camera se door bhagti thi — jaise tasveer mein qaid hona use daraata ho. Ab woh khud tasveer banati thi.
Valime ki raat ko jab sab ghar wapas aaye, to Kiran ne Mohsin se kaha, “Pata hai, aaj jab mein Hira ko dekh rahi thi, to mein ne socha — ek din hum bhi…”
“Woh din aayega,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Jab waqt sahi hoga, jab duniya taiyar hogi, jab hum taiyar honge. Tab hum bhi apna valima manayenge — chahe duniya kuch kahe.”
“Tumhe lagta hai duniya kabhi taiyar hogi?” Kiran ne poocha, aawaz mein woh purana darr halka sa jhalka.
“Duniya ko taiyar hone mein waqt lagta hai, Kiran. Magar hum intezar kar sakte hain. Kyunki humare paas sab se qeemti cheez hai — ek dusra.”
Us raat Kiran ne apni diary mein likha: “Aaj Hira dulhan bani. Use dekh kar mujhe rona aaya — khushi ke aansu. Kyunki mein ne dekha ke mohabbat jab mil jaati hai, to chehre par kaisa noor aata hai. Mere chehre par bhi wahi noor hai, Hira ne kaha. Shayad woh sahi kehti hai. Shayad mohabbat ka noor chhupaya nahi ja sakta.”
Lahore mein Mohsin ki zindagi apne usoolon par chal rahi thi — subah office, shaam gym, raat ko Kiran se baat. Us ka dost Daniyal, jo us ke saath hi kaam karta tha, aksar us se kehta, “Yaar, tu badal gaya hai. Pehle tu hamesha pareshan rehta tha. Ab tere chehre par sukoon hai. Kya baat hai? Shaadi kar li kya chhup kar?”
Mohsin hansta. “Shaadi nahi, magar mohabbat zaroor mil gayi hai.”
“To phir deir kis baat ki? Ghar walon se baat kar, shaadi kar, settle ho ja.”
Mohsin khirki se bahar dekhta — Lahore ki traffic, dhuan, shor. “Kuch mohabbatein aisi hoti hain, Daniyal, jinhe waqt chahiye hota hai. Duniya ko samajhne mein waqt lagta hai. Aur jab tak duniya na samjhe, humein sabr karna parta hai.”
“Tu to philosopher ban gaya hai,” Daniyal ne kaha. “Magar ek baat bata — woh khush hai?”
Mohsin ki aankhein chamkin. “Bahut khush. Aur us ki khushi dekh kar mujhe lagta hai ke mera sabr vasool ho gaya.”
Ek din office mein Mohsin ko “Employee of the Quarter” ka award mila — us ke project ne company ko bara client dilaya tha. Stage par jab us ka naam pukara gaya, to us ne sab se pehle Kiran ko phone kiya. “Mubarak ho!” Kiran cheekhi, itni zor se ke Mohsin ko phone kaan se hatana para. “Mein ne kaha tha na, tum kamal ho!”
“Yeh kamal tumhari dua ka hai,” Mohsin ne kaha.
“Nahi,” Kiran ne kaha, aawaz narm ho gayi. “Yeh kamal tumhari mehnat ka hai. Aur thoda sa meri mohabbat ka.”
Dono hans pare. Daniyal ne door se dekha, aur apne dil mein socha — kaash us ki zindagi mein bhi aisi mohabbat ho.
Us raat Mohsin ne apne flat ki chhat par beth kar Sialkot ki taraf dekha — halanke woh nazar nahi aata tha, magar dil ki nazar se sab dikhai deta hai. Us ne socha — kitni door aa gaya hun mein. Lahore, job, award, nayi zindagi. Magar dil ab bhi wahin hai — us purani haveli mein, us chhat par, us larki ke paas jo us ki duniya hai.
Us ne apna phone nikala — abbu wala — aur ek recording sunni. Aslam keh rahe thay: “Mohsin, beta, jab tum baray ho jao ge, to ek baat yaad rakhna — kamyabi ka matlab sirf paisa nahi hota. Kamyabi ka matlab yeh hai ke raat ko jab tum bistar par leto, to tumhare dil mein sukoon ho. Agar sukoon hai, to tum duniya ke sab se ameer aadmi ho.”
Mohsin ne aasman ki taraf dekha. “Sukoon hai, abbu,” us ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha. “Aap ki dua se, sukoon hai.”
Ek shaam, jab Mohsin Lahore mein tha aur ghar mein sirf maa-beti thin, to Kiran ne ammi se kaha, “Ammi, mujhe apni aur abbu ki kahani sunayein. Poori kahani. Kaise mile thay aap dono?”
Najma ne chai banayi, dono sehan mein bethin — wahi sehan jahan yeh kahani shuru hui thi. Aur Najma ne sunana shuru kiya.
“Mein un dinon solah saal ki thi,” unhon ne kaha, aankhon mein woh chamak jo purani yaadon se aati hai. “Tumhare abbu hamare mohalle mein naye aaye thay — un ka tabadla hua tha. Ek din garmi ki dopahar thi, woh hamare darwaze par aaye, paseene se sharabor, aur bole, ‘paani milega?’ Mein ne unhe paani pilaya. Bas ek glass paani. Magar jab woh pee rahe thay, to unhon ne mujhe dekha — aur mein ne unhe. Aur… bas. Wohi nazar thi jo zindagi badal gayi.”
Kiran ne gehri saans li. “Sirf ek nazar?”
“Sirf ek nazar,” Najma ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Mohabbat ko zyada waqt nahi chahiye hota, beta. Use sirf ek lamha chahiye hota hai — aur phir poori zindagi us lamhe ko nibhane mein guzar jaati hai.”
“Phir?”
“Phir unhon ne mere abbu se rishta manga. Mere abbu ne pehle inkar kar diya — kehte thay ke larka paradesi hai, pata nahi kaisa hoga. Magar tumhare abbu ne haar nahi maani. Woh roz hamare ghar ke bahar se guzarte, aur jab bhi mein khirki par hoti, woh muskurate. Ek din unhon ne mere abbu se kaha, ‘Mein aap ki beti ko rani bana kar rakhunga. Meri har khushi us ke naam hogi.’ Mere abbu ka dil pighal gaya. Aur phir… phir shaadi ho gayi.”
Najma ki aankhein bhar aayin, magar woh muskurati rahi. “Shaadi ke pehle saal mein hum ne bahut mushkil dekhi — paisa kam tha, ghar chhota tha, magar mohabbat bahut thi. Tumhare abbu raat ko der se aate thay, thake hue, magar mere liye hamesha kuch na kuch laate thay — kabhi jalebi, kabhi phool, kabhi sirf ek muskurahat. Kehte thay, ‘Najma, paisa to aa jayega, magar yeh din wapas nahi aayenge.'”
“Ammi,” Kiran ne kaha, “kya aap ko kabhi laga ke aap ne ghalat faisla kiya? Abbu se shaadi karke?”
Najma ne use dekha, hairan. “Kabhi nahi. Ek lamhe ke liye bhi nahi. Kyunki mohabbat mein ghalat-sahi nahi hota, beta. Sirf sach hota hai. Aur mera sach tumhare abbu thay.”
Kiran ne ammi ka haath pakda. “Ammi, mein… mein bhi apne dil ka sach chunna chahti hun. Hamesha.”
“To chuno, beta,” Najma ne kaha, us ke maathe par bosa dete hue. “Aur jab chuno, to peeche mur kar mat dekhna. Kyunki jo dil se chuna jaye, woh hamesha sahi hota hai — chahe duniya kuch kahe.”
Us raat Kiran ne apni diary mein likha: “Aaj ammi ne apni kahani sunayi. Ek glass paani, ek nazar, aur poori zindagi. Meri kahani bhi aisi hi hai — ek baarish, ek chhat, ek nazar. Shayad har mohabbat ki kahani ek chhote se lamhe se shuru hoti hai. Aur phir woh lamha poori zindagi ban jaata hai.”
Eid-ul-Fitr is saal sab se khubsurat guzri. Chaand raat ko Kiran ne ammi ke saath mil kar mehmaanon ke liye sheer khurma banaya, aur Mohsin ne sehan mein fairy lights lagayin — woh lights jo abbu har Eid par lagate thay. Jab lights jalin, to poora sehan jagmaga utha, aur Najma ki aankhein bhar aayin.
“Tumhare abbu bhi yahi karte thay,” unhon ne kaha. “Kehete thay ke Eid par ghar ko dulhan ki tarah sajana chahiye.”
Eid ki subah teenon ne naye kapre pehne. Mohsin ne Kiran ko eidi di — ek chhota sa dibba, jis mein ek sunehri chain thi, us par dil ka locket. “Yeh ammi ne di thi mujhe,” us ne kaha, “jab mein ne pehli naukri ki thi. Unhon ne kaha tha ke jab tumhe koi aisa mile jise tum apni zindagi banana chaho, to yeh use de dena.”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Mohsin, yeh to bahut qeemti hai.”
“Tum se qeemti kuch nahi,” us ne kaha, aur us ke gale mein chain pehna di.
Najma ne door se dekha, aur un ke chehre par woh muskurahat thi jo sirf maaon ke chehre par hoti hai jab un ke bache khush hon. Unhon ne kuch nahi kaha. Bas apne dil mein dua di — aur un ki dua mein itni taqat thi ke aasman bhi sun leta.
Eid ki raat ko jab mehmaan chale gaye, to Mohsin aur Kiran chhat par gaye. Fairy lights ab bhi jal rahi thin, aur un ki roshni mein chhat khubsurat lag rahi thi. Dono charpai par bethe, sheer khurma khate hue.
“Pata hai,” Kiran ne kaha, locket ko chhute hue, “jab mein chhoti thi, to sochti thi ke Eid ka matlab naye kapre aur eidi hai. Ab lagta hai ke Eid ka matlab yeh hai — apnon ke saath hona, un ki khushi dekhna.”
“Aur mohabbat,” Mohsin ne kaha.
“Aur mohabbat,” Kiran ne dohraya, muskurate hue. “Sab se bari Eid to woh hai jab dil ko us ka pyaar mil jaye.”
Us raat unhon ne der tak baatein ki — mustaqbil ke khwab, Kiran ke CSS ke plan, Mohsin ke career ke irade. “Ek din,” Mohsin ne kaha, “hum apna ghar banayenge. Chhota sa, magar hamara. Jahan koi darr nahi hoga, koi chhupna nahi hoga.”
“Jahan ammi hamare saath hongi,” Kiran ne kaha.
“Zaroor,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Ammi ke baghair ghar, ghar nahi hota.”
Neeche Najma apne kamre mein thin, apna phone sunti hui. Aslam ki aawaz aa rahi thi: “Najma, Eid Mubarak. Pata hai, aaj mein ne tumhe khwab mein dekha — tum has rahi thin. Aisi hansi jo mein ne saalon se nahi suni thi. Khush raho, meri jaan. Aur bachon ko meri taraf se Eid Mubarak kehna.”
Najma ne aasman ki taraf dekha. “Eid Mubarak, Aslam,” unhon ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha. “Tum jahan bhi ho, Eid Mubarak.”
Jab Mohsin Lahore mein hota aur Kiran Sialkot mein, to woh dono ek dusre ko khat likhte thay — haan, kagaz par, kalam se, usi tarah jaise Mohsin ne pehla khat likha tha. Phone aur video call ke daur mein yeh purani aadat un dono ko un ke waliden se jorti thi.
Mohsin ka ek khat: “Kiran, aaj office mein ek presentation thi. Mein ne sab se achha kiya. Magar jab sab taali baja rahe thay, to mein sirf tumhe yaad kar raha tha. Kamyabi ka maza tabhi hai jab use baantne wala koi ho. Tum meri har khushi ki shareek ho — chahe door ho ya paas. Aur haan, Daniyal kehta hai ke mein us se zyada hansta hun aaj kal. Woh nahi janta ke meri hansi ka raaz tum ho.”
Kiran ka jawab: “Mohsin, aaj academy mein ek larki ne mujh se poocha ke tum itni khush kyun rehti ho. Mein ne kaha ke mujhe zindagi se pyaar ho gaya hai. Us ne samjha ke mein parhai ki baat kar rahi hun. Shayad sahi samjha — kyunki tum hi meri zindagi ho, aur zindagi se pyaar karna hi to sab se bara imtihan hai, jo mein roz deti hun aur roz pass hoti hun.”
Ek aur khat mein Kiran ne likha: “Kal raat ammi ne mujhe apne aur abbu ki kahani sunayi. Ek glass paani, ek nazar. Mein ne socha — hamari kahani bhi to aisi hi hai. Ek baarish, ek chhat, ek nazar. Shayad har sachi mohabbat ek chhote se lamhe se shuru hoti hai. Hamara lamha woh tha jab tum ne chhat par mera haath pakda tha, aur mein ne chhuraya nahi tha. Yaad hai?”
Mohsin ne jawab diya: “Yaad hai. Woh lamha meri zindagi ka sab se qeemti lamha tha. Us se pehle mein sirf ummeed karta tha. Us ke baad mein yaqeen karne laga. Aur ab… ab to mujhe pata hai ke tum meri ho, jaise baarish ka paani mitti ka hota hai, jaise chandni raat ki hoti hai.”
Yeh khat un dono ne sambhal kar rakhe — ek dibbe mein, jo Kiran ne apni almari mein chhupaya tha. “Ek din,” us ne Mohsin se kaha tha, “jab hum burhe ho jayenge, to yeh khat parhenge aur hasenge — ke hum kitne pagal thay, aur kitne khush.”
“Aur hamare bache hasenge,” Mohsin ne kaha tha.
Kiran sharma gayi thi. “Bache? Itni door ki soch li?”
“Mohabbat mein door ki sochna hi to mohabbat hai,” Mohsin ne kaha tha. “Jo sirf aaj ki soche, woh mohabbat nahi, saudaa hai.”
Ek din Hira ne Kiran ke gale mein woh sunehri chain dekhi — dil wala locket. Us ne use chhua, aur poocha, “Yeh kahan se aayi? Pehle to nahi dekhi.”
Kiran ne halka sa sharma kar kaha, “Eidi mein mili thi.”
“Kis se?” Hira ki aankhein chamkin. “Koi khaas hai? Kiran, mujhe batao na! Mein tumhari sab se achhi dost hun!”
Kiran ne kuch der khamoshi ikhtiyar ki, phir kaha, “Haan, koi khaas hai. Bahut khaas. Magar abhi mein naam nahi bata sakti. Jab waqt aayega, sab se pehle tumhe bataungi.”
Hira ne use gale lagaya. “Theek hai. Magar itna bata do — woh tumhe khush rakhta hai?”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin — khushi ke aansu. “Bahut khush, Hira. Itni khush ke kabhi kabhi darr lagta hai ke kahin yeh khwab na ho.”
“Khwab nahi hai, pagal,” Hira ne kaha, us ke aansu ponchhte hue. “Yeh tumhari mehnat ka phal hai. Tum ne apne dil ki suni, aur dil ne tumhe inaam diya. Ab bas is khushi ko sambhal kar rakhna.”
Us raat Kiran ne locket ko haath mein pakar kar der tak dekha. Us ne socha — kitni chhoti si cheez hai, magar kitni bari kahani hai is mein. Ammi ki mohabbat, abbu ki yaad, Mohsin ka wada — sab is chhote se dil mein band tha. Us ne locket ko apne honton se lagaya, aur dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “Shukriya.”
Shukriya kis ko tha — yeh woh khud bhi nahi janti thi. Shayad Mohsin ko, shayad ammi ko, shayad abbu ko, shayad zindagi ko. Ya shayad us khud ko — ke us ne himmat ki thi, apne dil ki suni thi, aur apni khushi ko chuna tha.
Najma ke silai center ki pehli student, Rani, ki shaadi tay ho gayi. Rani ghareeb ghar ki larki thi — us ke walid mazdoor thay, aur shaadi ka kharcha uthana mushkil tha. Najma ne faisla kiya ke center ki taraf se us ka jode silwaya jayega, aur khana bhi unhi ki taraf se hoga.
Shaadi ki raat ko Najma ne Rani ko apne haathon se taiyar kiya — us ke baal banaye, use zewar pehnaye, aur us ke maathe par bosa diya. “Beta,” unhon ne kaha, “aaj se tumhari nayi zindagi shuru ho rahi hai. Ek baat yaad rakhna — shauhar se mohabbat karna, magar apne aap ko mat bhoolna. Aur jab kabhi mushkil aaye, to yaad rakhna ke tum akeli nahi ho. Yeh center tumhara ghar hai, aur mein tumhari maa hun.”
Rani ro pari. “Baji, aap ne mere liye jo kiya, woh meri apni maa bhi nahi kar sakti thin.”
“Har aurat har aurat ki maa hoti hai, beta,” Najma ne kaha. “Yahi to zindagi hai — ek dusre ka saath dena.”
Rukhsati ke waqt jab Rani ro rahi thi, to Najma ne use gale lagaya aur kaha, “Rona mat, beta. Yeh aansu khushi ke hone chahiye. Tum apne ghar ja rahi ho.”
Ghar wapas aate hue Kiran ne ammi se kaha, “Ammi, aap kitni achhi hain. Rani ke liye jo aap ne kiya…”
“Beta,” Najma ne kaha, “jab tumhare abbu thay, to unhon ne mujhe sikhaya tha ke dene mein jo khushi hai, woh lene mein nahi. Aaj jab mein Rani ko khush dekhti hun, to mujhe lagta hai ke tumhare abbu bhi khush hain — jahan bhi hain.”
Kiran ne ammi ka haath pakad liya. “Abbu aap par fakhr karte honge.”
“Aur tum dono par bhi,” Najma ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Tum dono meri sab se bari kamyabi ho.”
Us raat Najma ne apne phone mein record kiya: “Aslam, aaj Rani ki shaadi thi. Woh khush thi. Aur mein ne socha — zindagi ka matlab yahi hai. Apni khushi dusron mein baantna. Tum ne mujhe yeh sikhaya tha. Aur aaj mein ne use aage badhaya. Yeh silsila kabhi nahi rukega, Aslam. Mohabbat ka silsila kabhi nahi rukta.”
July mein Lahore mein musladhar baarish hui — aisi baarish ke sheher ki galiyan dariya ban gayin. Mohsin apne flat mein phansa hua tha, bijli gayi hui thi, aur bahar baarish ki aawaz ke siwa kuch sunayi nahi de raha tha. Us ne Kiran ko phone kiya.
“Sialkot mein baarish ho rahi hai?” us ne poocha.
“Ho rahi hai,” Kiran ne kaha. “Mein chhat wali chhappar ke neeche bethi hun. Tum?”
“Mein apni khirki par hun. Bijli gayi hui hai. Sirf baarish hai, aur tumhari aawaz.”
Dono khamosh ho gaye — sirf baarish ki aawaz, dono taraf se, phone ke zariye ek dusre tak pahunch rahi thi. Aisa lag raha tha jaise woh ek hi baarish mein bheeg rahe hon, chahe sheher alag hon.
“Pata hai,” Kiran ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha, “jab tum door hote ho, to mein baarish ko tumhara paigham samajhti hun. Jaise tum keh rahe ho ke mein yahin hun, isi baarish mein.”
“Aur jab tum door hoti ho,” Mohsin ne kaha, “to mein chand ko tumhara chehra samajhta hun. Roz raat ko use dekhta hun, aur sochta hun ke tum bhi use dekh rahi hogi.”
“Hum dono pagal hain,” Kiran ne hansi.
“Mohabbat mein sab pagal hote hain,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Farq sirf itna hai ke kuch log apne pagalpan ko chhupate hain, aur kuch use jeete hain. Hum use jeete hain.”
Baarish tez ho gayi. Kiran ne apna haath bahar nikala, baarish ke qatron ko mehsoos kiya. “Mohsin, ek baat kahun?”
“Kaho.”
“Kabhi kabhi mujhe darr lagta hai — ke kahin yeh sab khatm na ho jaye. Ke kahin mein subah uthun aur yeh sab khwab nikle.”
Mohsin ki aawaz narm ho gayi. “Kiran, meri taraf dekho — mera matlab, meri aawaz suno. Yeh khwab nahi hai. Mein hun, tum ho, hamari mohabbat hai. Aur jo cheez dil se ho, woh kabhi khatm nahi hoti. Baarish ruk sakti hai, magar badal hamesha rahenge. Humare darmiyan jo hai, woh badalon jaisa hai — kabhi dikhega, kabhi chhupega, magar hamesha rahega.”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Tum kitni achhi baatein karte ho.”
“Tum se seekhi hain,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Tum ne mujhe sikhaya hai ke mohabbat ka matlab intezar hai, sabr hai, aur yaqeen hai.”
Dono ne phone par hi baarish suni — der tak. Jab baarish halki hui, to Kiran ne kaha, “Ab mujhe sona chahiye. Kal academy mein test hai.”
“Allah Hafiz,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Aur haan — khwab mein milna.”
“Khwab mein to tum roz milte ho,” Kiran ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Aaj haqeeqat mein bhi mil gaye — is baarish mein, is phone par.”
Phone band hua. Magar dono ke dilon mein baarish ab bhi ho rahi thi — woh baarish jo kabhi nahi rukti, jo mohabbat ke naam par hoti hai.
August mein Kiran ke academy mein ek bara mock test hua — poore sheher ke students ne hissa liya. Jab nateeja aaya, to Kiran ne top kiya tha. Us ki khushi ka thikana nahi tha. Us ne sab se pehle ammi ko phone kiya, phir Mohsin ko.
“Top kiya?!” Mohsin cheekha. “Meri Kiran ne top kiya!”
“Tumhari Kiran ne,” Kiran ne dohraya, hansi. “Yeh jumla mujhe pasand aaya.”
“To phir ise hamesha ke liye apna lo,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Waise, ek surprise hai.”
“Kya?”
“Kal shaam ko apne hostel ke bahar aana. Theek paanch baje.”
Agli shaam Kiran hostel ke bahar aayi to dekha ke Mohsin khara tha — haath mein phoolon ka guldasta, aur chehre par woh muskurahat jo sirf us ke liye hoti thi. “Tum Lahore aaye? Mujhe bataya kyun nahi?”
“Surprise kharab ho jaata,” us ne kaha, guldasta dete hue. “Mubarak ho, topper.”
Kiran ne phool liye, aur us ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Tumhe kaise pata chala ke mujhe surprise pasand hain?”
“Mujhe tumhare baare mein sab pata hai,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Tumhe gulab pasand hain, magar sirf laal. Tumhe chai mein adrak pasand hai. Tum jab khush hoti ho, to apne baal kaan ke peeche karti ho — jaise abhi kar rahi ho.”
Kiran ne jaldi se apna haath neeche kiya, sharma kar. “Tum to jasus ho.”
“Tumhara jasus,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Hamesha ke liye.”
Woh dono Lahore ki sair par nikle — Badshahi Masjid, Food Street, aur phir Ravi ke kinare. Suraj doob raha tha, aur aasman laal-peela ho raha tha. Kiran ne Mohsin ke kandhe par sar rakha, aur kaha, “Pata hai, jab mein ne top kiya, to sab ne mujhe mubarak di. Magar mujhe sab se zyada khushi tumhari mubarak se hui. Kyunki tum meri mehnat ko samajhte ho.”
“Aur tum meri mohabbat ko,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Hum dono ek dusre ko samajhte hain. Isi liye to hum… hum hain.”
Ravi ka paani beh raha tha, suraj doob raha tha, aur do dil ek dusre ke saath thay — be-fikar, khush, aur mustaqbil ke khwabon mein khoye hue.
September mein Mohsin ki salgirah thi. Kiran ne Sialkot se Lahore aane ka plan banaya — ammi ko bata kar, zahir hai. “Ammi, Mohsin ki salgirah hai. Mein us ke liye kuch khaas karna chahti hun.”
Najma ne muskurakar kaha, “Jao, beta. Aur us se kehna ke us ki ammi use bahut yaad karti hai.”
Kiran ne Lahore mein Mohsin ke flat par ek chhoti si dawat rakhi — sirf woh dono, aur Daniyal. Us ne khud cake banaya — chocolate cake, Mohsin ka pasandeeda. Jab Mohsin office se wapas aaya aur darwaza khola, to dekha ke poora flat gubbaron se saja tha, aur Kiran cake liye khari thi, “Happy Birthday” gaati hui.
Mohsin ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Tum… tum aayi ho?”
“Salgirah par apne sab se khaas ko akela kaise chhorti?” Kiran ne kaha.
Daniyal ne cake kata, sab ne khaya, aur phir Daniyal chalaki se bahana bana kar chala gaya — “mujhe ek kaam yaad aa gaya” — taake woh dono akele reh saken.
Kiran ne Mohsin ko ek tohfa diya — ek diary, jis mein us ne un dono ki kahani likhi thi. Pehle din se — valime ki video wali raat se — aaj tak. Har khaas lamha, har baat, har ehsaas.
Mohsin ne diary kholi, pehla panna parha: “Yeh hamari kahani hai. Woh kahani jo baarish se shuru hui, aur mohabbat par khatm hogi — magar khatm kabhi nahi hogi, kyunki mohabbat khatm nahi hoti.”
Us ne diary band ki, aur Kiran ko gale lagaya. “Yeh meri zindagi ka sab se qeemti tohfa hai,” us ne kaha.
“Is se qeemti tohfa tum mujhe roz dete ho,” Kiran ne kaha. “Tumhari mohabbat.”
Us raat unhon ne chhat par beth kar sitare dekhe. Kiran ne Mohsin ke kandhe par sar rakha, aur kaha, “Ek saal pehle jab hum mile thay, to hum dare hue thay. Aaj hum khush hain. Agle saal?”
“Agle saal hum aur khush honge,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Kyunki har saal hamari mohabbat gehri hoti jayegi. Jaise dariya — jitna aage behta hai, utna gehra hota hai.”
“To phir hum dariya hain,” Kiran ne kaha, muskurate hue.
“Haan,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Aur hamara kinara kabhi nahi aayega. Kyunki mohabbat ka dariya behta rehta hai — hamesha.”
September ke aakhir mein Kiran ek hafte ke liye Sialkot aayi — academy mein chhutti thi. Ek shaam teenon ne faisla kiya ke woh purani valime ki video phir se dekhenge — wahi video jis se yeh kahani shuru hui thi. Sirf teenon, koi mehmaan nahi.
Sehan mein screen lagi, lights dim huin, aur video chali. Wohi chehre, wohi hansi, wohi raat. Magar is baar dekhne walon ki aankhein badal chuki thin. Jahan pehle sirf khushi thi, ab wahan gehraayi thi. Jahan pehle sirf tasveer thi, ab wahan kahani thi.
Jab woh frame aaya — Najma ke dupatte mein dusra phone — to teenon hans pare. “Dekho,” Kiran ne kaha, “hamara raaz, screen par.”
“Raaz jo ab kahani hai,” Mohsin ne kaha.
“Aur kahani jo ab virasat hai,” Najma ne kaha.
Video dekhte hue Kiran ne socha — kitna kuch badal gaya hai ek saal mein. Pehle woh is video mein sirf ek chehra thi — hansti hui, magar andar se tooti hui. Ab woh poori thi. Pehle Mohsin sirf ek bhai tha — khamosh, pareshan. Ab woh us ka pyaar tha. Aur ammi… ammi pehle ek raaz thin, ab woh khuli kitaab thin.
Video khatm hui. Teenon der tak bethe rahe, khamosh. Phir Najma ne kaha, “Pata hai, jab yeh video bani thi, to mein ne socha tha ke meri zindagi khatm ho gayi hai. Tumhare abbu chale gaye thay, aur mein sirf saans le rahi thi — jee nahi rahi thi. Magar aaj…” unhon ne apne bachon ko dekha, “aaj mujhe lagta hai ke meri zindagi ab shuru hui hai. Tum dono ne mujhe jeena sikhaya hai.”
“Hum ne?” Kiran ne hairan hokar poocha.
“Haan,” Najma ne kaha. “Tum dono ne mujhe sikhaya ke darr ko jeetna kya hota hai. Mein ne chaar saal tak apni mohabbat chhupayi, aur tum dono ne mujhe dikhaya ke mohabbat chhupane ki cheez nahi, jeene ki cheez hai. Tum mere ustad ho, mere bachon.”
Mohsin aur Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. Unhon ne ammi ko gale lagaya — dono taraf se. Aur us lamhe mein, us purani haveli ke sehan mein, projector ki madham roshni mein, teen dil ek ho gaye — past, present, aur future. Abbu ki yaad, ammi ki himmat, aur bachon ki mohabbat — sab ek saath, ek kahani mein.
“Ek baat kahun?” Kiran ne kaha, aansu ponchhte hue. “Jab yeh sab shuru hua tha, to mein ne socha tha ke hamari kahani ka koi naam nahi ho sakta. Magar ab lagta hai ke is ka sab se khubsurat naam hai.”
“Kya?” Mohsin ne poocha.
“Vasl ka mausam,” Kiran ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Milne ka mausam. Kyunki hum mile — ek dusre se, apne dil se, aur apni khushi se.”
Najma ne dono ke sar par haath phera. “Aur yeh mausam kabhi khatm nahi hoga,” unhon ne kaha. “Kyunki jab dil mil jayein, to har mausam vasl ka mausam hota hai.”
October ke pehle hafte mein Kiran ka CSS ka written exam tha. Us se ek raat pehle woh bahut nervous thi — kitaabein phaili hui thin, notes bikhre hue thay, aur us ki aankhein neend se jal rahi thin. Mohsin ne use phone kiya.
“So jao,” us ne kaha. “Tum taiyar ho. Tum ne mehnat ki hai, aur mehnat kabhi zaya nahi hoti.”
“Magar agar mein fail ho gayi to?” Kiran ki aawaz kaanp rahi thi.
“To phir se dogi,” Mohsin ne kaha, sukoon se. “Kiran, exam sirf ek imtihan hai. Zindagi ka sab se bara imtihan tum pehle hi pass kar chuki ho — apne dil ki sunne ka. Us ke saamne yeh kuch nahi.”
Kiran ne gehri saans li. “Tum hamesha sahi kehte ho.”
“Nahi,” Mohsin ne hansi. “Mein hamesha tumhare saath hun. Yeh farq hai.”
Agli subah Najma ne Kiran ko dahi-shakar khilayi — wohi rasam jo har exam se pehle hoti thi. “Jao, beta,” unhon ne kaha, us ke maathe par bosa dete hue. “Tumhare abbu ki dua tumhare saath hai. Aur meri bhi.”
Exam teen din chala. Har din ke baad Kiran Mohsin ko phone karti, aur woh use hosla deta. Teesre din jab aakhri paper khatm hua, to Kiran bahar aayi, aasman ki taraf dekha, aur zor se hansi — woh hansi jo azaadi ki hoti hai.
Us ne Mohsin ko phone kiya. “Ho gaya!”
“Mubarak ho!” Mohsin cheekha. “Ab party hogi!”
“Party to hogi,” Kiran ne kaha, “magar pehle mujhe ghar jaana hai. Ammi ke paas. Unhe batana hai ke un ki beti ne apna ek aur imtihan de diya hai.”
“Jaise tum ne zindagi ka imtihan diya tha,” Mohsin ne kaha.
“Bilkul,” Kiran ne kaha. “Aur dono mein kamyab hun gi. Kyunki mere saath tum ho, ammi hain, aur abbu ki dua hai. Is se bari taqat kya ho sakti hai?”
Final screening wali subah ko nashta khaas tha. Najma ne halwa poori banayi thi — wohi jo Aslam ko bahut pasand thi. Teenon ne mil kar khaya, aur har niwale mein yaad thi, mohabbat thi, shukr tha.
“Ammi,” Mohsin ne kaha, chai ka cup uthate hue, “aaj se ek saal pehle jab hum ne pehli baar yeh video dekhi thi, to hum teeno alag alag thay — apne apne darr mein, apne apne raaz mein. Aaj hum ek hain.”
“Waqt sab se bara ustad hai, beta,” Najma ne kaha. “Woh sikhata hai, aazmata hai, aur phir inaam deta hai. Hamara inaam yeh hai —” unhon ne dono ko dekha, “— ke hum ek dusre ko pa gaye. Asli mayenon mein.”
Kiran ne apni plate se ek poori tor kar ammi ko khilayi. “Yeh aap ke liye, hamari sab se bari ustad ke liye.”
Najma ne niwala khaya, aur un ki aankhein bhar aayin — magar yeh aansu khushi ke thay. “Mere bachon,” unhon ne kaha, “tum dono ne mujhe jo diya hai, woh koi daulat nahi de sakti. Tum ne mujhe meri zindagi wapas di hai.”
Nashtay ke baad teenon ne mil kar bartan dhoye — hanste hue, geet gate hue, jaise koi taqreeb ho. Aur shayad taqreeb hi thi — zindagi ki taqreeb, mohabbat ki taqreeb, us khushi ki taqreeb jo lambi laraai ke baad milti hai.
Bahir dhoop nikal aayi thi, aur sehan mein peepal ke patte sunehri lag rahe thay. Kiran ne apne phone se teenon ki ek tasveer li — ammi beech mein, woh dono taraf. Us ne tasveer ko dekha, aur muskurayi. Yeh tasveer us ki diary mein jayegi — us diary mein jo us ne Mohsin ko di thi, aur jis mein ab naye panne jud rahe thay.
“Yeh tasveer,” us ne kaha, “hamari kahani ka sab se khubsurat panna hai.”
Us dopahar ko jab dhoop sehan mein phail gayi, to Mohsin ne apna purana harmonium nikala — wohi jo abbu bajaya karte thay. Us ne use saaf kiya, sur milaye, aur ek purani dhun chheri. Kiran ne saath gaya — wohi geet jo abbu ammi ke liye gate thay.
Najma ne dono ko dekha — beta harmonium bajata hua, beti gaati hui — aur unhe laga ke waqt peeche mur gaya hai. Jaise Aslam wahin hon, unhe dekh rahe hon, muskura rahe hon. Unhon ne apna phone nikala, aur is lamhe ki recording ki — bete ki dhun, beti ki aawaz, aur apne dil ki dhadkan.
“Yeh recording,” unhon ne kaha, phone band karte hue, “mein apne sab se qeemti khazane mein rakhungi. Kyunki is mein meri poori duniya hai.”
Geet khatm hua, magar us ki goonj der tak sehan mein rahi — jaise mohabbat ki goonj rehti hai, khatm hone ke baad bhi.
Shaam ko jab chai ka waqt hua, to Kiran ne ammi se kaha, “Ammi, aaj aap hamare liye woh kahani sunayein jo abbu aap ko sunate thay — woh pari wali.”
Najma hansin. “Woh kahani to tum dono ko yaad hogi.”
“Phir se sunna hai,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Ammi ki zubani har kahani nayi lagti hai.”
Aur Najma ne sunana shuru kiya — wohi purani kahani, naye andaz mein. Teenon chai peete rahe, kahani sunte rahe, aur bahar Sialkot ki shaam dhire dhire raat mein badal gayi. Magar is ghar mein andhera nahi tha. Yahan roshni thi — mohabbat ki roshni, jo kabhi nahi bujhti.
hamesha ke liye, mohabbat ke saath.
October phir aaya — poora ek saal baad. Sialkot mein phir wahi mausam tha: baarish ke baad ki shaam, geeli mitti ki khushbu, aur aasman par pehle sitare. Haveli ke sehan mein phir se screen lagi thi, phir se kursiyan ghumi hui thin, phir se dastarkhwan laga tha.
Magar is baar video nayi thi — is saal ki shaadiyon ki, naye chehron ki, nayi khushiyon ki. Aur is baar screen ke saamne bethne walon mein ek nayi roshni thi.
Najma par ek saal ka waqt guzar chuka tha — magar woh pehle se zyada jawan lagti thin. Silai center chal raha tha, un ke chehre par sukoon tha, aur un ki aankhon mein woh roshni thi jo sirf unhe milti hai jinhon ne dard ko jeet liya ho. Un ke paas ab bhi woh kaala phone tha — magar ab woh chhupa hua nahi tha. Woh use khul kar istemal karti thin, aur jab koi poochta ke yeh dusra phone kyun, to woh muskurakar kehti thin, “Yeh mere shauhar ka phone hai. Is mein un ki yaadein hain.”
Mohsin Lahore mein apni job mein taraqqi kar chuka tha. Woh har hafte ghar aata tha — kabhi kabhi to bina bataye, sirf ammi ke haath ka khana khane. Kiran CSS ki tayyari mein masroof thi, aur us ki mehnat rang la rahi thi — mock teston mein woh top kar rahi thi.
Video chal rahi thi, aur teenon ek saath bethe thay — Najma beech mein, Mohsin aur Kiran dono taraf. Koi kuch nahi keh raha tha, magar un ke darmiyan jo khamoshi thi, woh sab se khubsurat guftagu thi.
Video mein ek frame aaya — pichle saal ke valime ka, wohi purani video ka ek hissa jo is saal ki video mein bhi shamil tha. Aur us frame mein Najma thin, dupatte mein phone chhupaye hue. Mohsin ne Kiran ko dekha, Kiran ne Mohsin ko, aur dono ke honton par muskurahat aa gayi. Najma ne bhi dekha, aur unhon ne dono ke haath pakad liye.
“Yaad hai?” unhon ne dheemi aawaz mein kaha. “Jab yeh raaz tha?”
“Ab yeh kahani hai,” Mohsin ne kaha.
“Aur sab se khubsurat kahani,” Kiran ne kaha, ammi ke kandhe par sar rakhte hue.
Video khatm hui, taaliyan bajin, aur sab khane par toot pare. Magar teenon wahin bethe rahe, aasman ko dekhte hue. Chand nikal aaya tha — poora chand, is baar aadha nahi. Uski roshni sehan par par rahi thi, peepal ke patton par, aur teenon ke chehron par.
“Ammi,” Mohsin ne kaha, “kya aap ko kabhi afsos hua? Hamara saath dene par?”
Najma ne use dekha, phir Kiran ko. “Beta, afsos us cheez par hota hai jo galat ho. Tum dono ne jo kiya, woh dil se kiya. Aur dil se kiye hue faislon par afsos nahi, fakhr hota hai. Mujhe tum dono par fakhr hai — ke tum ne himmat ki, ke tum ne sach ko chuna, ke tum ne mohabbat ko darr par tarjeeh di.”
Kiran ki aankhein bhar aayin. “Ammi, agar abbu hote, to kya woh bhi…?”
“Woh tum dono ko gale lagate,” Najma ne kaha, baghair hichkichahat ke. “Aur kehte — ‘mere bachon ne apne dil ki suni, aur mein un ke saath hun.’ Kyunki woh aise hi thay. Aur hain —” unhon ne apne phone ki taraf ishara kiya, “— is mein, hamari yaadon mein, aur hamare dilon mein.”
Us raat jab sab so gaye, to Mohsin chhat par gaya — wahi chhat jahan us ne Kiran se pehli baar apne dil ki baat kahi thi. Thodi der baad Kiran bhi aayi. Dono charpai par bethe, aasman ko dekhte hue.
“Ek saal,” Kiran ne kaha. “Poora ek saal ho gaya.”
“Aur lagta hai jaise kal ki baat ho,” Mohsin ne kaha. “Woh valime ki video, woh chhat, woh darr…”
“Aur woh mohabbat,” Kiran ne kaha, us ka haath pakarte hue. “Woh to ab bhi hai. Aur hamesha rahegi.”
“Vasl ka mausam,” Mohsin ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Yaad hai tum ne kaha tha — baarish ka mausam vasl ka mausam hota hai.”
“Har mausam vasl ka mausam hota hai,” Kiran ne kaha, “jab dil mil jayein.”
Neeche sehan mein Najma apne kamre mein thin, apna phone haath mein liye. Unhon ne ek nayi recording ki — is kahani ki aakhri recording: “Aslam, aaj poora ek saal ho gaya. Hamare bachon ki kahani ko ek saal. Aur kya kahani hai! Darr tha, aansu thay, imtihan thay — magar aakhir mein jeet mohabbat ki hui. Tum kehte thay na — bachon ko khush rehna chahiye. Dekho, woh khush hain. Aur mein bhi khush hun. Kyunki mein ne seekha hai ke mohabbat ko chhupana nahi chahiye, use jeena chahiye. Tum ne mujhe yeh sikhaya, Aslam. Aur mein ne apne bachon ko. Yeh hamari virasat hai — mohabbat ki virasat. Jo kabhi khatm nahi hogi.”
Unhon ne phone rakha, aur khirki se bahar dekha. Chand poora tha, sitare chamak rahe thay, aur Sialkot ki us baarish-dhoi raat mein hawa mein wohi khushbu thi jo ek saal pehle thi — geeli mitti, bheegi belain, aur nayi shuruaat ki mehak.
Kahani khatm ho gayi thi. Magar mohabbat — mohabbat to abhi shuru hui thi. Aur jo kahani mohabbat se shuru ho, woh kabhi khatm nahi hoti.